The Mists of Sorrow: The Morcyth Saga Book Seven (5 page)

“What was the dream?” asks Brother Willim.
James can detect a slight seriousness in his voice.

Taking a deep breath he says, “I was running
through a shattered city.” Looking to James he says, “That’s the
best way I can describe it.”

James nods and says, “Go on.”

“Well, something was after me though I never
saw it,” he says. “I just knew. I raced through the broken
buildings toward a bright shining light. When I finally got there I
found that it was a temple, shining forth with a light that eased
my fears.”

“Then, my fear returned stronger than
before. I looked around but couldn’t find the cause of the feeling.
Then, the light coming from the temple began to dim. Blackness
started to ooze up from the ground, and where it touched the stones
of the temple, the stones darkened until finally turning black.” He
looks at them, eyes wide with remembered fear.

“The further up the walls of the temple the
darkness climbed, so rose my fear. Just before it completely
consumed the entire temple, you woke me.” He sits there a moment in
silence then turns again to James. “It seemed so real.”

“It may have been more than a normal dream,”
states Brother Willim. “There was something while you dreamt,
something from elsewhere.” When James looks at him questioningly,
he adds, “I can’t really explain it better than that. I feared it
may have been a return of the shadows but it felt different.”

“But what could it mean?” he asks glancing
first to Brother Willim then back to James.

“I don’t know,” admits James. “But the way
you were acting can’t be good.”

“Dreams are often sendings from the gods,”
Brother Willim says. Then to James, “The more closely you deal with
them, the more likely they will touch you that way.”

“Could my dream have been a message from
Morcyth?” Miko asks. “From an actual god?”

Shrugging, Brother Willim says, “Perhaps.
However, it’s been suggested in theological circles that when you
grow closer to one god, you also become closer to others.” He can
see the confusion on Miko’s face at that. “Let me put it to you
this way. In a city there are various districts, the rich,
merchant’s, poor sector, so forth. You follow me so far?”

Miko nods his head though still looks a bit
lost.

“Okay, say you go to visit someone where the
rich and affluent live. When you go there, you are also in closer
proximity to the others that live there too. And thus, they are
able to reach you better. Does that help?”

“Not really,” he replies.

“I think I understand,” says James. “The
more you interact with one, the more likely you can be reached by
another.”

Nodding, Brother Willim says, “Yes. But it
is only a theory, though a favored one.”

“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.

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 doesn’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.”