The star of Morcyth ms-5

by Brian S. Pratt

  Not taking the time to congratulate himself, he immediately drops down to the ground and races for the ice knives lying on the ground over by James. Before he even reaches them he hears a growl behind him and glances back to find the creature has already regained the top and is coming after him.

  He redoubles his speed. It’s a race to see if he can reach the knives before the creature reaches him. When he draws close he dives for them, takes one in each hand and then rolls back to his feet facing the approaching creature.

  No sooner is he back on his feet than the creature is upon him. Lashing out with a paw, the creature tries to connect with his midsection. He deftly deflects the attack with one of the ice knives which elicits a roar of pain from the creature when the knife connects. “You didn’t like that did you?” Jiron asks as the creature looks at him with malevolent hate.

  The knives are extremely cold but not so as he can’t hold onto them. After seeing the reaction the creature had to the touch of the knife, he launches into an attack, his confidence once more restored in his ability to hold his own. Striking out at the creature, he connects with one knife and scores a long sizzling line across one of its forelegs.

  Snarling in pain and anger, the creature advances upon him incredibly fast. Jiron concentrates on defense and counters every attack the creature makes. After several passes and scoring numerous hits upon it, he suddenly realizes that his knives are smaller than they had been. They’re melting! The heat of the creature is causing them to melt with every strike. He needs to finish this soon or he won’t have any weapon left with which to fight.

  He backs a little to plan his attack and kicks up some of the hail still peppered across the ground. It does little to slow the creature. Suddenly the creature leaps at him and he swerves to the right but not before receiving a long scrape along one arm. Burning pain erupts from the red welts forming along the cut as the heat of the creature burns him.

  Taking the fight to it, he launches into a series of blows which the creature deflects but not without receiving wounds from the knives. Finally seeing the opening he’s been waiting for, he closes the distance rapidly and plunges one of the knives into the chest of the creature.

  Bellowing in pain, it staggers to the side and then he plunges the other knife though where the neck and the shoulders meet. Stepping back, he watches the creature thrash about upon the ground until it finally comes to rest. Then it erupts into a cloud of noxious black smoke just as the other had. When the smoke clears, the two ice knives are gone.

  Breathing hard from the fight, he makes his way back to where James is lying. Sitting down next to him, he rests his head on his knees. Glancing to his friend he wonders just how long he’ll be out this time.

  He closes his eyes for just a moment before a nearby noise brings him suddenly alert. Opening his eyes, he turns to find a man in robes approaching and a dozen soldiers of the Empire behind him. Three have crossbows leveled at him.

  “That was quite impressive,” the Empire’s mage tells him as he continues to draw near. “Don’t know how you defeated the Guardian’s set against you.” Glancing to James lying comatose on the ground beside him, the mage turns to the soldiers and says, “Take them.”

  Unable to do anything with the crossbowmen there, he does nothing as they tie his arms behind his back.

  Chapter Twenty Two

  After they tie him securely, he’s put into the back of a nearby wagon along with the comatose James. The mage takes a seat in the front of the wagon with one of the soldiers next to him taking the reins. One soldier and crossbowman climb into the back of the wagon with their prisoners, the others mount awaiting horses. Then the soldier driving the wagon flicks the reins and the wagon begins rolling. Moving onto the road, they head down it toward the Madoc side.

  Sitting in the back of the wagon as it rolls along, bumps making his position decidedly uncomfortable, Jiron keeps an eye on James. Other than the predicament they’re in, he seems okay. The soldiers and mage are silent as they roll along which suits him just fine. He tries to work the knot of his bonds loose but the soldier in the back with him notices and shakes his head. Seeing the implied threat in the man’s eyes, he stops.

  They roll for another several hours before turning off the road. They follow a path which is little more than a game trail for another twenty minutes before arriving at a clearing where a camp has already been set up.

  More soldiers are there as well as many slaves. How they managed to get all this here without being detected is something Jiron isn’t likely to find out anytime soon. Several tents dot the clearing as well as three other wagons. As they roll to a stop the mage gets down and says something to one of the soldiers before disappearing inside the largest tent which sits in the center of the clearing.

  The soldier comes over to the side of the wagon and says to Jiron, “Come on down.”

  Doing the best he can with his wrists tied behind him, he rises in the back of the wagon. Putting one foot on the edge he hops over to the ground below. The soldier and crossbowman in the back pick up James.

  “This way,” the soldier says as he turns and leads him over to another smaller tent to the side. The two carrying James follow.

  The other people in the camp pause in what they’re doing to stare at the new arrivals. Whispered mutterings can be heard throughout the clearing. As they approach the tent, one soldier holds open the flap as he and James are put inside. Then they proceed to remove all their items but the clothes on their backs.

  Shortly after that a civilian and a slave enter and come over to where James is lying on the ground. The man is holding a vial in his hand and with the slave’s help, pours the contents into his mouth. After waiting several minutes to make sure it was swallowed, he and the slave leave.

  Aside from a guard posted outside, they’re left pretty much alone. Jiron works at his bindings and finally gets them undone. He doesn’t bother trying to awaken James, he realizes that aside from the fact he probably wouldn’t wake up anyway, having again overextended himself with magic, he’s likely drugged as well.

  Moving close to his friend, he checks to make sure he’s still breathing and otherwise okay. Then he sits back and waits for whatever their captors plan to do next. He has a pretty good idea of the layout of the camp and sits near the edge of the tent in order to attempt to keep track of what’s going on outside.

  Not more than a half hour goes by before footsteps are heard approaching the tent. The flap is pulled aside and the mage enters followed by two soldiers. Once inside, the tent flap is again allowed to close.

  The mage glances from the unconscious James to Jiron and notices he’s managed to remove his bindings. One soldier pulls his sword to keep Jiron at bay while the mage approaches James.

  “Don’t touch him!” warns Jiron.

  The soldier with the drawn sword comes forward and strikes him across the face with his other hand. “Impertinent dog!” he says derisively.

  Kneeling down near James’ head, the mage lifts one eyelid and examines his eye for a moment before closing it. Returning to his feet, he glances again to James. “So, this is the mage causing the Empire so much trouble,” he says. He looks to Jiron as if for confirmation but Jiron remains silent.

  “Doesn’t seem like much,” he continues, “but you two did defeat two of the Guardians.” He stands there, gaze boring into Jiron for a moment. “Now,” he finally continues, “tell me where the Fire lies?”

  “Fire?” questions Jiron. “What’s that?”

  A dark expression comes over the mage as he says, “Don’t take me for a fool, you know what it is. You and he have been together almost from the beginning.”

  The beginning of what? Jiron questions to himself silently. He remains quiet and defiant.

  “Tell me what I want to know!” he demands with more of an edge to his voice. When Jiron is again uncooperative, he raises his hand and pain flares throughout Jiron’s body.

  Back arching and muscles contracti
ng painfully, he clenches his teeth together and fights the urge to cry out. He doesn’t want to give them the satisfaction.

  As quickly as the pain began it quits. “Now, my patience is beginning to wear thin,” the mage tells him. “Tell me where it is!”

  Jiron raises his head and gazes into the mage’s eyes. Sweat beads his forehead and his breath is a little ragged from the excruciating pain he just endured. Giving no indication of compliance, he stares defiantly at the mage.

  Raising his hand again, the mage causes pain to once more erupt along every nerve in his body. His muscles again contract painfully, almost to the point where they’ll begin breaking the bones they’re attached to.

  Try as he might, he can’t keep a small gasp of pain from escaping. After what seems like an eternity, the pain stops and he flops back to the floor, eyes closed and breath coming in ragged gasps.

  “This will only get worse if you do not tell me,” warns the mage. “And let me assure you, we have as long as it takes.” He then says something to one of the soldiers in their language. The soldier promptly leaves the tent and returns shortly with a chair for the mage. Taking his seat, he gazes down at Jiron who has managed to regain some of his composure. “Shall we begin again?” he asks.

  Jiron just spits at him, the spittle managing to land on the hem of his robes.

  The soldier closest to him strikes him across the face and begins yelling at him in their language.

  “Enough,” the mage says and the soldier stops his tirade. Looking back to the mage, he sees him motioning for the soldier to move away from Jiron, which he does.

  Holding his arm out, the pain once again flares along Jiron’s already flayed nerve endings. Back arching almost to the point of snapping his spine, he gnashes his jaws together to prevent the cry of pain from being torn from him.

  “Tell me,” the mage says softly. “Tell me where the Fire is hidden and this will all end.”

  Through an almost insurmountable obstacle of pain, Jiron cries out, “Never!”

  Unrelenting, the mage sends wave after wave of pain through Jiron’s nervous system, each worse than the one before. Suddenly, one of the guards standing near the mage bumps into the mage and breaks his concentration ending the spell.

  “Clumsy oaf!” the mage screams to the man as the backlash of magic burns through him. Pushing the man away, his anger slowly turns to puzzlement as the man staggers a moment and then falls face down. Protruding from his back is the back half of an arrow.

  No sooner has the soldier hit the ground than the tent flap is pulled aside and another soldier begins talking rapidly to the mage. From outside the tent screams and the clash of swords can be heard. Then the soldier at the tent flap suddenly jerks upright and falls to the ground, two arrows embedded in his back.

  The mage gets to his feet, points to Jiron and James as he says a few words to the remaining guard and then hurries from the tent.

  Jiron lays there, the residual pain coursing through him beginning to subside. Outside he hears explosions from magic the mage is wielding against whoever is attacking. The remaining guard is at the tent flap peering out, occasionally glancing back to make sure Jiron isn’t trying anything.

  As he lays there, strength beginning to return from the torture of the mage, he looks to the soldier peering outside. While his attention is focused on the events unfolding outside the tent, Jiron tries working his muscles to be sure they’re okay. From the beating he took from the mage, he wasn’t sure if anything permanent had been done. After a few minutes he’s sure all is well, the pain must have been more in his mind than physical in nature. Things like that were mentioned in some of the old sagas he used to listen to growing up.

  He feigns docility as the soldier turns to glance back toward him. Outside, the clash of arms continues as does the explosions from the mage. Men are screaming and crying battle cries. One battle cry he recognizes is that of Madoc, it must be men from there who are attacking the camp.

  At first he thought it might have been Fifer and the others but then realized there would have been no way for them to reach here so fast. They have to be at least a day or two behind, coming on foot as they are.

  Once the soldier makes sure that Jiron remains passive on the ground, he turns back to the events unfolding outside.

  Moving slowly, Jiron quietly begins getting up off the ground. Just as he’s reached a crouched position, James lets out with a groan which draws the attention of the soldier back to the inside of the tent. Gasping at seeing Jiron there ready to attack, he hollers out for help as he draws his sword.

  When James groaned, Jiron’s heart sank as the man turned to look at him there ready to pounce. Moving quickly, he grabs the chair the mage had used and barely blocks the strike of the soldier. Chips fly as the blade hacks out a section of a leg.

  Not giving the man a chance for a second swing. Jiron immediately closes with him, pushing the chair toward him and running him into the side of the tent. The resulting impact brings the tent down and the man’s sword becomes entangled in the loose folds of the collapsing tent.

  Jiron quickly grabs the soldier’s swordarm and rams his knee into the man’s middle. The soldier’s other fist lashes out and catches Jiron across the jaw but has little effect as he didn’t have leverage to put much power behind it.

  His knee comes up and catches the soldier in the groin causing him to freeze immobile for a brief moment, which allows Jiron to elbow him across the throat, smashing his windpipe. The man begins gagging in a vain attempt to breathe but his compacted windpipe starts to swell from the blow and he soon passes out from lack of oxygen.

  Taking the man’s sword, Jiron crawls through the collapsed tent until he reaches James. “James!” he whispers urgently. “Wake up!” His eyes flutter open and he mumbles something incoherently. Whatever they had given him still keeps him from functioning properly.

  “Damn!” he curses as he turns onto his back and thrusts the sword upward through the tent material. Sawing with the sword, he quickly cuts a three foot slit and pokes his head out to see how the battle’s going on outside.

  The men from Madoc have the numbers but the Empire’s mage is taking them out readily enough. Arrows fly toward the mage but none reach their mark, he has a barrier surrounding him similar to the one James utilizes. So far no one has taken any notice of the collapsing of the tent, so intent are they on the attackers.

  Jiron uses his hands and widens the gap further and slips outside. Reaching back in, he uncovers James and then looks around for an escape route. Over by the main tent are several horses, fortunately still saddled. The Empire’s forces are over to the far side where the attackers from Madoc are mostly concentrated.

  Hoping that his mistreated muscles will bear the weight he reaches down, lifts James over his shoulder and begins carrying him toward the horses. The sound of swords clashing and the cries of men caught within terrible magic resound throughout the clearing.

  The gloom of twilight lends an eerie feel to the proceedings but gives Jiron the shelter he needs to remain unobserved as he crosses over to the awaiting horses. Once he’s reached them, he puts James over one and begins to secure him on.

  “Jiron,” he hears him say as he’s tying his hands and feet together with a rope looped under the belly of the horse.

  Moving to where his head hangs, he hears James ask, “What happened?”

  “Captured by Empire soldiers,” he replies. “They took all our stuff and we’re getting out of here.”

  “My crystals?” he asks.

  “I don’t know,” he says as he cinches the last knot tight. Jerking his head toward the main tent they’re next to he adds, “Maybe in there. Do you need them?”

  Shaking his head, he says, “As we leave, take me closer.”

  Mounting the horse next to him he asks, “Why?”

  “Just do it,” he says.

  “Alright but we don’t have much time to waste,” Jiron tells him. Looking around, he can tell
the battle is going badly for the men from Madoc. The Empire’s mage has all but wiped them out.

  “Don’t need much,” he says.

  As he takes the reins of James’ horse in hand, a cry arises nearby and he looks to see one of the Empire’s soldiers pointing in their direction and shouting. The mage turns and sees them on the horses, then pain suddenly erupts in Jiron’s middle and he almost falls off the horse. Bringing them close to the tent he says through the pain, “We’re here.”

  In a voice cracking, speech slightly blurred, he says as loud as he can, “Spoilsport! Act Three! Fifteen!” As he utters the last word he can feel power being drawn from him by the crystal within the tent. Even Jiron notices as what little power he has is being pulled into it as well. To Jiron he says, “We haven’t much time.”

  That’s all he needed to hear. Kicking his horse in the sides, he races toward the edge of the clearing, bowling over several soldiers in the process. The pain ripping through his middle increases dramatically and it’s all he can do simply to remain in the saddle and hold onto the reins to James’ horse.

  Bolts start flying as crossbowmen begin taking shot at the fleeing duo but miss as Jiron dodges their horses this way and that to avoid the flying bolts. The Empire’s mage turns from the remnants of the Madoc attack force and moves quickly toward them, all the while maintaining the pain wracking Jiron’s body.

  When he nears the main tent wherein the crystals lay, the effects of his spell on Jiron diminishes as his power begins to be drained as well. That’s when he takes note of what’s transpiring within the tent.

  As the pain begins to ease up, Jiron looks back as he leaves the clearing and sees the mage beginning to enter the tent. From beside him, he can hear James counting, “…thirteen…fourteen…fif…” Before he can finish the word, a massive explosion rips through the tent and engulfs a good portion of the clearing. The concussion from the blast rolls over them and the horses stumble a moment. Jiron fears they may go down but they manage to right themselves and race to leave the destruction behind them.