Light in the Barren Lands: Travail of The Dark Mage Book One

by Pratt, Brian S.

  It had grown dark, the sunlight coming through the window having disappeared hours ago. Sitting with his daughter’s head in his lap, Jiron gently stroked her hair while she slept. James’ sobs had continued unabated until he too had succumbed to sleep.

  Thoughts of Aleya ran through his mind. How he loved her. Even now it seemed odd for him to care so deeply about another as he did for his beloved Aleya. Her hair, the way she moved when pulling back the string to her bow, everything about her called to him.

  His daughter was no less precious to him. At least he had this much left of his Aleya.

  “No!” he suddenly exclaimed to the darkness. He was not going to give up on her so easily. Such was not in his nature. There had to be a way home and by the gods, James was going to find it!

  Moving so as not to awaken his daughter, he scooted to the side and laid her head upon the floor. Seeing that she remained asleep, he crossed over to where James lay curled up in a fetal position.

  Waking his friend with a shake, he said, “Wake up, we need to talk.”

  “Wasn’t asleep,” he said wearily without moving or changing position.

  Jiron grabbed him by the shirt and dragged him to a sitting position. “We don’t have time to wallow in grief,” he began. “We need you to get that brain of yours working and find us a way home.”

  “I told you,” James said, finally raising his eyes to meet Jiron’s, “magic doesn’t work here.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  Sighing, James raised his hand and once more failed in an attempt to summon his orb. “I can’t even produce an orb,” he explained. “There is no magic.”

  Jiron knelt quietly before James. “We have been through many adventures you and I,” he said. “More than once our situation was dire only for you to get us through. Sometimes by the skin of our teeth, but we always made it.”

  Pausing a moment, he gave James an opportunity to comment. When he remained silent, Jiron continued. “I remember you talking of the magic of your world. What about this Gandalf character you speak so highly of?”

  “He’s naught but the creation of a rather talented bard,” James replied.

  “Even still, answer me this? How can a world devoid of magic know of magic?”

  James sighed. “Magic is a term my people use to describe the causality of events that cannot be explained. It doesn’t necessarily refer to magic as you and I would.”

  Seeing that he was getting nowhere, and not nearly having the flare with words that James possessed, he was forced to change tactics. “So what are we to do now?” he asked. “If as you say we are to remain on your world for the rest of our lives, what now?”

  So wrapped up in misery over the loss of Meliana and Kenny, James’ train of thought hadn’t quite reached that far.

  “Should we stay here?” asked Jiron, indicating the room about them. “Or should we leave? And if we do leave, where do we go?”

  “I don’t think we should be found here,” began James. “With the fire, not to mention your and Jira’s knives, there would be questions raised we couldn’t answer. At least not in a way they would believe us.”

  “Okay then,” said Jiron. “We leave.”

  James nodded. “Wonder where we are?” Coming to his feet, he moved to the room’s window and looked out onto the hallway.

  Feeling better now that life had begun returning to his friend, Jiron crossed over to where Jira slept and woke her. “We’re leaving.”

  Sleepy-eyed, she asked, “Are we going home?”

  “Not yet,” he replied.

  At the window, James pressed his face against the glass and peered down the hallway. “It’s quiet,” he said. “We better make our way from the building by morning.” Glancing back to his friend he added, “They’ll for sure have cleaning crews in to repair the damage caused by the fire sprinklers.”

  Moving with his daughter beside him, Jiron crossed to the door and retrieved the knife that wedged it closed. “Then there’s no time to waste.” Opening the door slowly, he poked his head out and looked down the hallway. Finding it deserted, he motioned for James to lead the way. “Your world.”

  “Right.”

  Passing through the doorway, James immediately went to the window at the end of the hall. From there he looked out over a town very much of his world. Tall buildings with lit windows, rivers of red and white lights flowing to and fro along the street far below, and several blocks away could be seen the unmistakable golden glow of a pair of arches. The sight made his stomach cramp and his mouth water.

  “Does it look familiar?” Jiron asked.

  Shrugging, James said, “At night, all cities look alike.” Eyes lingering hungrily on the golden glow in the distance for a moment longer, it was only by a sheer force of will that he was able to turn away. Remembered tastes and odors of long ago assailed him. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Taking the lead, he led the way down to where a doorway was blocked off with yellow tape bearing the words, “Police line. Do Not Cross.” Pausing before the open door, he looked beyond the tape but couldn’t see much of anything in the gloom.

  “What’s this, father?”

  James glanced down and saw she had ripped one of the lower strands of police tape off the doorway and was holding it. “It’s telling everyone not to enter,” he explained. “That you will get into serious trouble if you do.”

  “Oh,” she replied.

  “Put it down Jira,” her father instructed.

  “Yes, father,” she said, letting the tape slip from her hand.

  James gave the darkened room one last look and was about to leave when the number on the door caught his eyes; twenty-three thirty-four. “We’re on the twenty-third floor,” he announced.

  “Twenty-third?” asked an astonished Jiron. “How can they build that high?”

  “My people can do some pretty amazing things.” Leaving the room behind, he continued down the hallway until coming to the elevator. About to press the button, he suddenly remembered elevators have cameras in them. In fact, he and Dave once mooned an elevator camera years before that fateful day when he answered the ad. For the next week they feared repercussions for their act, but thankfully, none ever materialized.

  “Perhaps not,” he said more to himself than to the others. It might be best to leave without any record of them having been there. Glancing about, he located a door with a small window which had light coming through from the other side. Next to it was a plaque denoting a flight of steps.

  Crossing to the stairwell, he led them down from one floor to the next, their footsteps echoing eerily. After descending five flights, James brought them to a halt.

  “We’re going to need to do something about our attire,” he said. “Dressed as we are, we will stand out once we leave the building.” Glancing to Jiron and his knives, he added, “And if anyone sees your knives the cops will be on us.”

  “Cops?” asked Jiron.

  “It’s what we call the town guard in my world,” he explained. “It isn’t customary for my people to walk around so armed.”

  “How do you defend yourselves?” Jiron asked.

  “Most people don’t,” he replied.

  “I’ll not give up my knives,” he firmly stated.

  “You don’t have to,” James assured him. “But we will need to find some way to conceal them before we leave the building.” Glancing at the knives hanging on Jira’s belt he added, “Yours too.”

  “Very well,” agreed Jiron. Taking hold of his belt, he unbuckled it and removed the scabbards. Then, he lifted the back of his shirt and inserted the scabbard bottoms within his breeches. Once they were a third of the way in, he took the belt and wrapped it around the upper half of the scabbards and cinched it tight against his chest. When his shirt was put back in place, there was a noticeable bulge.

  “Hmmm,” commented James as he took in the poorly hidden knives. “If we keep moving and stay out of the light, they might go unnoticed.”
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  Jira copied her father and when finished, her small knives hardly made any bulge at all.

  “Okay?” asked Jiron.

  “I guess,” replied James. “It’s better than having them blatantly out in the open.”

  Continuing their downward descent, they were able to reach the ground floor without encountering anyone. James attributed the lack of others to the lateness of the evening. He did however worry about the possibility of security guards that may be roaming about, especially down in the lobby.

  Pausing at the stairwell door, he looked through the small window. A pair of elevators and a men’s room stood just on the other side. Beyond these, the open expanse of the lobby stretched toward a revolving door flanked on either side by a pair of regular doors. Other than half a dozen chairs and two tables, it looked empty. Maybe there were no security guards employed within this building. James fervently hoped so. Opening the door, he stepped through.

  As he started to pass the elevators, he heard a Ding!

  Unable to hide in time, all he could do was stand there and watch the door open. The shocked surprise of the security guard at seeing the two men and small girl in a lobby that was supposed to be vacant gave Jiron sufficient time. Striking the guard in the solar plexus, he followed with a second blow to the side of the man’s head, knocking him out before he could utter a sound.

  James moved forward and pulled the guard from the elevator to allow the doors to close. “He’s still alive.”

  Jiron nodded. “Didn’t try to kill him,” he replied. When James glanced toward him, he added, “We couldn’t very well have allowed him to raise the alarm could we?”

  “No,” said James. “But now there will be an investigation as to who it was that struck him. A complication I was hoping to avoid.” A quick look around the immediate area revealed no less than three security cameras, one of which was pointing in their general vicinity. “Great.” Jiron looked questioningly toward him but he didn’t elucidate.

  Returning his attention to the man, he saw a key chain bearing a dozen keys clipped to the man’s belt. Taking the keys James said, “Let’s get out of here before his partner shows up.”

  With Jiron and Jira following closely, James ran toward the pair of doors on the right of the revolving door. There he worked quickly to locate the correct key, all the while Jiron stood transfixed by the sight beyond the glass doors.

  Cars, buses, and trucks of all shapes and sizes passed before them. Lights, unnaturally steady, came at them from all angles. There was none of the flicker that one would expect from a flame. These lights were just like the magical orb that James created.

  Click!

  Finding the right key, James unlocked the door and swung it open. Moving through, he realized he was alone on the other side. Jiron and Jira stood there immobile, overwhelmed by the world before them.

  “Come on,” James urged. “They are just cars, uh, horseless carriages.”

  “They are conveyances?” questioned Jiron. Giving Jira a gentle shove, he and his daughter emerged from the building.

  “That’s right,” replied James. Closing the door, he used the key to lock it once again.

  A few passersby on the sidewalk took note of their exit, giving their appearance a second look. Feeling decidedly uncomfortable with more and more people pausing to gawk at their outlandish attire, he directed Jiron to follow and they hurriedly moved down the street.

  Keeping close to the buildings did little in the way of hiding them as the sidewalk was well lit with streetlights and other forms of illumination attached to the side of the building. Just before coming to a less busy side street, James took note of the appearance of a bus. The sign displayed above the driver read“33 Downtown.” Then he turned the corner and they left the busy thoroughfare behind.

  It was slightly less well illuminated down this street, and James took full vantage of the pockets of shadows. He didn’t know how long it would be before the security guard awoke, but he did know they needed to be as far from there as possible when he did.

  “Your world is truly incredible,” Jiron said, maintaining a firm grip on Jira’s hand.

  “There is much of it that I miss,” replied James.

  Coming to a side alley, he moved quickly through the glow of a streetlight and into the alley’s sheltering darkness. Relative darkness to be sure, as there were small lights placed above doors of the bordering buildings.

  “We need to find out exactly where we are,” stated James.

  The buildings along the alley revealed little as to the city in which they were.

  Spying a homeless person lying beneath a torn piece of cardboard, he altered course and approached. Without Jiron at his side, he would never have braved such a course of action now that his magic was inoperable.

  Drawing near, he saw layers of clothes move and two eyes turn in their direction.

  “Excuse me,” began James, “I was wondering if you could help us.”

  Eyes locked upon them, the person made no attempt to reply.

  “Would you mind helping us?” James asked again.

  “Doesn’t look as if he’s going to,” commented Jiron.

  James was about to agree when he suddenly realized he wasn’t speaking in English. After five years of speaking nothing but the language of Jiron’s world, he had to concentrate to get the words out.

  “Could you help us?” he asked, this time in English.

  “What for?” came the gruff reply.

  “We are in need of information,” explained James.

  “Go away,” the man barked. “I’ve had enough of your kind coming around here and hassling me.”

  “My apologies for disturbing you, but our situation is urgent,” said James. Turning to Jiron, he asked, “Do you have a coin?”

  Jiron nodded his head. “I do.”

  “Then let me have one, a silver.”

  Checking his pouch, he found a single silver along with a couple golds and a score of copper. “You’re in luck,” he said, handing it over. “I have one left.”

  James took the coin and held it out to the homeless man. “I don’t have any cash, but would silver convince you to help us?”

  At that, the homeless man grew more interested. Sitting up, he stretched out his hand for the coin. “Perhaps, if it is real silver.”

  Handing him the coin, James watched as the man inspected it before the coin disappeared.

  Glancing from side to side, the man returned his attention to James and asked, “What do you wanna know?”

  “Well, this may seem kind of dumb, but…what town are we in?”

  A smile creased the face of the old homeless man. “You boys must really be lost if you don’t even know where you are. I thought you were a couple of cops.”

  “With a little girl?” asked James.

  “That did throw me off for a moment I must confess.”

  “So what town are we in?” asked James for the second time.

  “Haveston.”

  Chapter Seven

  ________________________

  Haveston. Home. He was home. Somehow, his teleporter had bridged the distance and delivered them there. But how? There was no way his half dozen crystals in the teleporter could have held sufficient power to do such a thing.

  Why also had they been deposited in a room located high in a skyscraper? Then the color drained from his face as he recalled the numbers on the door beyond the police tape. 2334! That was the number of the room where he’d gone for that interview many years ago, the room where he had passed through the door marked “Private” and met Igor for the first time.

  Jiron noticed his reaction and laid a hand on his shoulder. “Are you alright?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” replied James. “I’m home.” To the homeless man he said, “Thank you.”

  Sensing that he was no longer going to be bothered, the homeless man grunted something unintelligible then nestled back beneath his piece of cardboard.

  Trudging
up memories long relegated to the nether recesses of his mind, James tried to get his bearings. Working on the assumption that the building they emerged from was indeed the one he had gone to for his interview, he soon knew which direction was north. And with that, knew which way to go to reach his grandparents’ home.

  “We’re a little over five miles from my grandparents’ house,” he explained to Jiron and Jira. “They will help us.”

  Jiron looked relieved. “Then lead the way.”

  James nodded and continued moving down the alley. The most direct way to his grandparents’ home lay back the way they had come. But with the possibility of the security guard coming to and calling the police, James decided on a more roundabout way.

  Five hours later, his grandparents’ house came into view. The front porch light was on and everything looked just as he remembered. Even the creaky old porch swing still sat on the front porch.

  As they walked down the sidewalk he had known most of his life, he was surprised at how nervous he was becoming. Unconsciously, he began slowing his pace until finally coming to a stop before his grandparents’ next-door neighbor’s house.

  Beside him, Jiron carried Jira who had fallen asleep hours ago. Seeing the way James was staring at the house, he asked, “Is that it?”

  “Yeah,” he replied with a mouth gone suddenly dry.

  No lights were on in the house, every window was dark and shut tight. Three doors down, a dog began to bark.

  Long had he wished to see his grandparents again, and now that the chance had come, he was hesitant. What would he tell them? What could he tell them? How could he possibly explain his absence all these years? And returning in the dead of night, what were they to make of that? Taking a calming breath, he took a step and headed for the walkway leading from the curb to the front door.

  At the walkway’s entrance, he paused. “You had better wait here for now.”

  “If you think that is best,” replied Jiron, who then moved into the shadow of a weeping willow.