Dark Shores of Salvation: Travail of The Dark Mage Book Three

By Brian S. Pratt

Build a temple...sounds simple. But with an unknown adversary laying waste to the Empire and magic growing ever more unreliable, things could get interesting.

Dark Shores of Salvation is the third book in Brian S. Pratt's Travail of the Dark Mage series. It is the sequel series to The Morcyth Saga, a tale of epic fantasy adventure.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brian S. Pratt
• Release date: May 31, 2023
• ISBN: 9781311963826

Brian S. Pratt

Born in Modesto, California, Brian graduated high school in 1985 and went into the Air Force where he trained as an Avionic Specialist on the F-117A Stealth Fighter.When his tour of duty ended, he tried his hand as a Pizza Hut delivery driver where he quickly rose to become General Manager of a delivery unit in Edmonds, WA and continued as such for several years.Then after a short stint driving a taxi, he spent two years teaching teenagers how to drive. (Not as stressful as one would imagine.) He now writes full time in Washington, USA.His published works include:The Morcyth Saga (7 Books)Travail of The Dark Mage (2 Books)Improbable Adventures of Scar and Potbelly (series)The Broken Key Trilogy (3 Books)Dungeon Crawler Adventures (2 Books)The Adventurer's Guild (2 Books)Ring of the Or'tux (Stand Alone)Box Sets:Worlds of Fantasy-Includes the complete first book in three of Brian S. Pratt's most popular series: "The Morcyth Saga" - "The Broken Key Trilogy" - "The Adventurer's Guild." Over 850 pages of epic fantasy entertainment.

Book preview

Prologue

A massive conflagration erupted within the tree line. Trees exploded, soldiers screamed in pain and through it all, a man walked encased in a protective shield. As his men died around him, the one bringing destruction threaded his way through a hellish inferno. The heat was intense but bothered him not at all. The attacker gave no thought to the welfare of his men as he continued forward.

Coming to the edge of the clearing, he saw a lone building situated near the center. Not far from it sat a wooden platform of mysterious design. Within that building was the one for whom he had come. Stepping from the trees, he made his way forward. Resting on the palm of his upturned hand was a yellowish-glowing object from which magic radiated.

Two faces peered at him through a window. A third sheltered within as well, but kept out of sight. He recognized one of the faces as that of the mage. Not slowing his pace, the attacker worked his way through the fiery debris until past the area of destruction. About that time, the door to the building opened.

A young man of middling height and twenty-four years of age emerged. From the looks of him one wouldn’t think he posed any kind of threat. But the power he could command was formidable. The mage stood framed in the doorway for a moment; fear, worry and no small amount of confusion played across his face. A moment only did he stand there before leaving the relative safety of the small, wooden building. The two men strode purposely toward each other. One set on destruction, the other striving to survive.

When the mage came within speaking distance, the mage asked, Who are you?

Silence was the only answer he received.

Are you from the Empire?

It was a valid question as the soldiers the attacker had arrived with had clearly been from there.

Again, the mage was answered by silence.

I don’t suppose you would simply go home? When again the attacker failed to reply, the mage added, No? I didn’t think so.

The clearing was choked with an ever-thickening blanket of smoke. Fires raged in the tree line surrounding the clearing and the debris littering the area smoldered and hissed.

Coming to a stop a hundred feet away, the mage paused a moment. For a brief moment the pair locked eyes.

The attacker felt the mage connect to the magic grid surrounding the island. The yellowish object in the attacker’s palm flashed brilliantly and a beam of power lanced toward the mage. Translucent spheres appeared in the space between them, one of which encountered the beam and the resultant impact was tremendous. A staggering amount of force had been released and the concussion wave rolled over them both.

Firing another beam, it proved just as ineffective as another of the mage’s translucent spheres drew the beam to it and another explosion rocked the clearing.

Then from behind the mage a man emerged. Dark-haired, muscled and no stranger to death, he held in his hands several ceramic disks. As soon as he drew close he threw them to land in the space between the two adversaries. Immediately, micro-bursts of magic lanced at the attacker. They proved minor in their effect but the constant barrage distracted him just enough to make magic harder to control.

The mage summoned massive amounts of magic to him and lightning fell from a cloudless sky. Three bolts of incredible ferocity struck the attacker’s shield and when the resulting flash and detonation dissipated, the attacker remained standing. The mage looked on in shock that his attacks had yielded so little results.

Responding in kind, the attacker struck with a force of concentrated power. The mage barely had time to throw up a shield. It was hit with such force that the air surrounding the shield ignited in a gigantic fireball. Flames engulfed the shield, and if the mage’s friend hadn’t leapt backward to shield himself behind the remnants of a once mighty tree, he would have been consumed. As it was, when the flames subsided, the ends of his hair smoldered.

When the mage’s friend glanced behind him to find the workshop had suffered greatly from the explosion, he raced back toward it. A moment later he emerged with a girl clutched tightly to his chest and raced for the safety of the mysterious platform situated not far away. They had barely ducked behind it when the mage was again struck with a massive magical attack.

Fire erupted around the mage’s shield. From out of the inferno, the mage counter-attacked. The ground shook and cracked open only to be shut with a flare from the yellowish object held in the attacker’s hand. Ice, fire, and slugs of stone pummeled him but the attacker’s shield held.

Then the yellowish object pulsated and magic flowed toward the mage’s shield. Within it, the mage braced for the impact. But instead of attacking, the magic settled around the shield like a wet blanket. It created a barrier between the mage and the conduits of magic upon which he drew. The attacker worked to trace the conduits back to the magical nodes which were their source. One by one he disabled them, steadily weakening the mage’s magical reservoir.

Realizing his predicament, panic grew upon the mage’s face. In a final burst of magic utilizing nearly all his internal reservoirs and the power from what conduits remained available, he lashed outward and threw off the magic covering his shield.

Staggered from the effort, the mage turned toward where his friend and the girl had taken shelter behind the platform.

His friend saw him. James! he cried.

The mage shouted back, Get on the platform! Then he bolted for it.

With the mage on the run, the attacker lashed out again only to hit a wall of magic the mage had thrown up in desperation. Blasting through it with ease, the blow pummeled the mage full on, knocking him off his feet. Sailing through the air, the mage landed head first against the side of the platform.

"Uncle!" the girl screamed.

The mage’s friend was there and pulled him up onto the platform.

With the yellow object in his hand, the attacker made his way toward the trio huddled upon the platform. It was time to finish what he had come to do. Summoning magic, he surrounded himself with an inferno, and then launched it at those upon the platform.

Screams sounded as the fiery death roared toward them. Then just before it hit, the platform’s magic sprang to life. Adding his own power and finesse in traversing the void between worlds, Igor sent James on his way.

The platform was consumed by the fiery blast, but that mattered not. James was headed to Earth and the probability was high that not only would he return, but would bring with him items from his world that without which, all hope would be lost for this world.

Igor sent his senses to those at the manor and found them worried and fearful, but would be okay. A ship was even now en route which would rescue them and bring them to safety.

The burned bodies of the soldiers that had accompanied him on this raid vanished as they were no longer needed. What damage James had dealt had not been illusion and as such, would remain.

There has to be a simpler way…, he murmured to no one in particular.

Turning about, he made his way back to the path leading to the dock area. Along the way he came across a pile of rock that had once been one of James’ island guardians. Pausing a moment, he reassembled Rocky. Once it regained its former shape he laid a hand against the shattered crystal and repaired it. A moment later it glowed deep amber.

Protect your master’s island until his return.

The stony face stared at him for but a moment before Rocky turned to resume his pattern of patrol.

He’s on his way.

And you’re late, stated Asran’s representative for this world.

Igor flashed him an annoyed look. These things must be done properly or the end result will not be what you wish.

Like the last time?

He turned to Corinthia’s representative. Had I not acted and brought him from his homeworld, even now this planet would be lost to Dmon-Li.

We don’t know that for certain, another stated. Representing a god whose influence had all but vanished, his opinion held little weight with the others. Still, as long as even a single human worshiped his god, he had a voice in this Council.

More than one nodded their agreement.

For a second time you have brought this world to the brink of annihilation.

Asran’s Rep. had far more influence and could not be so easily dismissed.

The probability that we would reach this point was moderate, he explained. But then he held up a hand to forestall further condemnation. But to have not acted, the probability of Demon-Li’s plans coming to fruition was nearly certain. I had to act. There was no choice if this world was not to fall to Evil.

The others didn’t care much for Igor. Since he did not represent a god, he was not obligated to adhere to the Compact, a set of rules detailing how gods and their Reps can act in regards to humans, whether theirs or others. Those breaking the Compact risked complete destruction of their presence on the world upon which the Compact was broken. Good, evil and neutral deities would come together to destroy every last follower and temple of the offending deity. Nothing would be left.

Igor knew that though he worked outside the Compact, there was only so far he could go. The others would not act against him unless he gave them just cause. At times he had walked a fine line. Bringing James over had nearly caused him to step over that line. But as things had turned out in the world’s favor, he had been forgiven. But now the situation was beginning to spiral out of control and he again trod upon the razor’s edge.

He turned to their newest member, one who had been absent for centuries.

We must wait and see, Morcyth’s Rep stated. The portents are favorable, I will grant you. But there is no such thing as a guaranteed success where humans are concerned. They are a capricious lot.

Gyomias is already on the move. Asran’s Rep drew everyone’s attention. When your agent stopped Dmon-Li, he did so in such a way that created a void. Gyomias seeks to take advantage.

Are you certain of this? Corinthia’s Rep asked.

His fleets are nearly complete. Soon, he will send his forces north.

Turning to Igor, she asked, And will your man be up to the task?

Igor hesitated before responding. No small amount of doubt and worry coursed through his mind. Before this would be over, James would be called upon to do something, something which Igor was not entirely sure if he could be convinced needed to be done. Yet doing so was absolutely vital.

Finally, he nodded. Yes.

Chapter One

Two beggars walked the streets of Abu Dar.

There had been a time when Abu Dar was a calm and not too congested town. Nestled on the southern shore of the Empire, it was a trading city though not nearly as important as Port Tyr, its neighbor to the east.

Over the course of the last century, while the great trading houses had made Port Tyr a major hub of commerce and culture, those of Abu Dar had been content with simply earning a profit while maintaining as much of its small-town charm as possible.

As the years progressed, Abu Dar did grow though it was controlled and measured. It had been during the Troubles sixty years ago that the wall had been built. If not for the raids by those seeking to throw off the Empire’s yolk, it would to this day be open and unencumbered by a large and formidable protective wall. But there it loomed; in the way of the inhabitants and blocking the view of the sea that they loved.

Today the calm was but a wistful memory; panicked, frantic people packed the streets. Most had only recently had their lives turned upside-down by the invaders, either fleeing from Corillian, Port May, or one of the cities dotting the islands. Some had barely escaped with their lives, while those of the northern towns fled upon receiving news of the invasion.

There was still very little known about the invaders other than that they came from across the sea. Farlanders, the seamen called them. People of legend whom until recently, most had considered little more than myth; a story told around a mug of ale at day’s end.

Some still failed to believe that they were the Farlanders of the seamen’s tale. A land beyond the end of the ocean? Preposterous! Yet none could deny that someone brought war to the Empire, and war that no one had ever seen before. Strange magical machines against which they had no defense. Who were they? What was their intention? And would they be satisfied with the islands off the coast? None knew though rumor spread like wildfire.

"I tell you this is the Kirken Federation," some believed.

"Secret weapons developed by some Warlord I’d wager," others insisted.

"Rubbish. This is the work of The Dark Mage!" even more would say if asked. Most would say, even if not asked. Speculation about who they were and where their next attack would next fall was served in the local taverns, rumors flowed even more freely than ale.

A beggar dressed in fine clothes whose day had long come and gone, shook his head. He grinned upon hearing yet again how The Dark Mage was behind it.

If they only knew.

Azhan glanced to Miko, then said in an all but silent whisper, What do you think they would do if they knew he was not more than two blocks away?

Dressed in nice clothes that looked like they had fallen on hard times, faces smudged with dirt, and hair uncombed and unruly, Miko shrugged. Flee for their lives I would imagine.

The High Priest of Morcyth and The Dark Mage’s apprentice were on their way to meet with a group of street kids. Miko was the natural choice for this type of work as he had grown up on the streets and knew them better than anyone. Azhan accompanied him as he could readily speak the language; and in these troubled times, having a mage at your side could prove beneficial.

Abu Dar had been chosen as the site of the temple Igor requested they build. It had also been decided that it be Morcyth’s, as if that had been in contention. Initially, James considered being the priest in charge, but that thought had quickly been put to rest. Miko felt Father Keller should be the one to head Abu Dar’s newest temple and so it would be.

Why not you? Kip had asked Miko.

I cannot very well be a beggar one day and priest the next. No, Father Keller will do very well as High Priest in Abu Dar.

The others were even now converting an old storage area into a temple. Upon first arriving, Fathers Keller and Vickor, with Kip in tow, had paid a visit to Abu Dar’s ruling council. They informed them that they had been sent to start a temple to help in these troubled times. With war looming on the horizon, the council had practically bent over backwards to accommodate them. To them, it was a good omen that Morcyth had decided to put down roots. It could be that Abu Dar was favored by the gods.

Father Keller said nothing to dissuade them from their mistaken belief. His request for a place to set up the temple had been greeted with enthusiasm. Several buildings were currently standing empty and they were given their choice. One several blocks in from the docks suited their needs nicely.

It had once belonged to a small trading house that could no longer meet its financial responsibilities to the town so had lost its property. The grounds included a manor house, a sizeable warehouse that would do for the temple itself, and three smaller buildings that had been auxiliary storage buildings.

Furnishings had been scarce and the council had been little help in filling that need. Scar and Potbelly were put in charge and with Shorty and Hikai, James’ other apprentice, went out to procure what was needed.

James remained in the manor with Jiron, Tinok, Father Vickor and Eddra. Eddra had grown in lucidity and day by day proved to be nothing more than an old woman wrongly accused of being evil by her fellow villagers. Having been a seamstress in her younger days, her hands were now too arthritic to do much more than grip a spoon to feed herself.

While the others prepared the warehouse to be a temple, Miko went in search of what they needed most; information. And the best place to find the most reliable source was on the streets. Donning his beggar ‘guise the day before, he and Azhan had made the acquaintance of Mikah, an older boy in the full onslaught of puberty; and twin girls, Azza and Belli each with less than ten summers behind them.

They played the part of two refugees who had sought shelter and protection behind the walls of Abu Dar. A few coins for a loaf of bread and the kids had mellowed. Today he returned to see what fruit his seeds of kindness had produced. He knew there would be no immediate inflow of information. First, a network had to be developed and Mikah and the girls were but the first step. Unfortunately, time was not on their side.

Over the heads congesting the crowded thoroughfare rose the raised arm of The Mariner; a statue situated just beyond where their street entered the plaza. It was there that they had arranged to meet the trio this morning. Would they be there? Miko simply didn’t know. Trust was a hard thing to come by when on the streets, especially when dealing with those not ‘of’ the streets.

But his fears proved pointless. For when they entered the plaza and The Mariner came into full view, Mikah and the two girls sat upon its base. Two boys slightly older than Mikah, as well as another girl easily a year younger than the twins, were also there.

Mikah was the first to spot them. He nudged one of the older boys, pointed their way and then hopped off. The others followed suit.

Thought you weren’t going to show, he accused.

I always keep my word, Miko replied.

Mikah, as well as others, didn’t look convinced.

You gonna stake us to a meal?

Of course, he began then held up his hand. If, he added as he eyed each in turn, you have some information?

Don’t have much, Mikah replied. Town’s gone crazy if you know what I mean.

Miko nodded. So it would seem.

Some are still being allowed to leave through the North and West gates, he explained. Most believe that they will be closed at any time.

When the enemy is sighted no doubt, Miko replied.

Mikah shrugged. Don’t know.

Should we leave?

He turned to Azza, or was it Belli? Being twins he couldn’t be sure. Looking into eyes full of worry, he said, I do not know.

I’ll protect you, Mikah said with great confidence. The two girls unconsciously moved closer to him. He put his arm around the one that had expressed her fear.

Miko liked the boy’s confidence though wondered what one so young could do against armed men. Well, like you said, it was not much. But I am a man of my word. Glancing around, he asked, Where is a good place to pick up a cheap meal?

Lak Tir, a large port town east of Abu Dar and the stronghold of Warlord Halim, sat a couple days’ ride to the east. Ships bearing the starburst insignia of the enemy filled the water off its shoreline. They would come close while smaller boats ferried men and cargo ashore. Once emptied, they would then return to deeper water while others took their place. Already two thousand men had been deposited on the beach.

A ring of makeshift breastworks had gone up around the city just out of reach of the defender’s crossbowmen and catapults. Four of the magical devices encountered on the ships had been unloaded and sat in a heavily guarded area within sight of the gate.

Don’t know why they are building fortifications, Jiron said. With their magic they should be able to break down the gate in no time.

James looked up from the large water-filled bowl used to watch the enemy. Could be they are getting they lay of the land before they begin. Returning to the image, he scrolled it west of Lak Tir to see if ships or men were en route to Abu Dar. When the beaches and sea remained clear, he shifted the image to that of Melia’s Dream.

Kendrick’s flagship, Melia’s Dream, carried their families to safety. Meliana stood with Kenny by the forecastle while Aleya sat on a bucket with Jira in her lap. Since their all-so-brief reunion, Aleya had hardly let Jira get more than an arm’s length away. Jira clearly chaffed under the constant watchfulness and protectiveness of her mother.

They will reach Cardri by midday tomorrow, James announced after scrolling and zooming out the image to determine their position.

What do you suppose Cardri will do when they hear about what’s going on down here?

Nothing.

Nothing? Jiron asked incredulously.

I figure they will sit back and wait to see what happens. The Empire is not exactly loved by those to the north. I doubt they will care what happens to it.

And us?

Us?

This temple we are supposed to build. What about that? If they attack Abu Dar, what are we to do?

Are we going to help defend the city, you mean?

Jiron nodded.

James grew thoughtful; silence stretched for a moment before he replied. We’ll have to see what happens.

Nowhere during their encounters with the enemy, nor during their secret reconnaissance via the bowl of water had they witnessed the enemy employing slaves. Corillian, as well as the rest of the Island of Terrance was completely under their control. Ever since taking residence of their temple area they had kept a watchful eye on the goings-on over there. It looked like the populace was being treated well. The injured were seen to, several Soup Kitchens had sprung up to help feed the locals, and they even witnessed a slaver compound in Tearlan demolished after which the slaves were fed, clothed and cared for. James was on the fence as to whether or not this invasion was a bad thing. If their intentions were to take down the Empire and abolish slavery, he would in no way get in their way.

Still, civilians were getting hurt and maybe that was why Igor had them build a temple; to help out those injured by the conflict. He hadn’t specified whether they should get involved or not. But as in all things to do with that strange little creature, they would have to wait and see how the events unfolded and figure out what to do on their own.

The scene shifted once again to their families on Melia’s Dream. The scene settled upon Jira trying to sneak away from her mother only to be caught and brought once more by her side. James chuckled.

Poor little girl.

He glanced to Jiron who watched the scene with a wistful grin.

She almost made it that time.

Jiron nodded. I know how her mother feels. In time I’m sure she’ll be granted a little more freedom.

By the way, James began, did you ever mention to Aleya about Jira and the Little Brothers?

Growing thoughtful, Jiron grinned and shook his head. No. In all the rush to get them to safety I forgot.

Think Jira will tell her?

Barking a laugh, Jiron shook his head. Not if she can help it I’m sure. Though what trouble can she get into if she sings them a tune or gives them scraps from the table?

I suppose.

They watched again while Aleya spoke with Meliana, Jira tried to drift away. She almost made it too, before Kenny said something and spoiled her attempt. The look Jira gave the boy prompted laughter from her father and uncle.

James cancelled the image as he restricted his magical viewings to only a few short minutes every couple hours so as not to attract the destructive effects of shimmering. Thus far it had yet to make an appearance since their arrival in Abu Dar. He hoped it remained that way.

Scar pushed a broom while Potbelly held a bucket for him to sweep debris into. They were on cleaning detail and hated every minute of it. The buildings they had been given by the city had not seen a broom or mop for some time. Everyone else worked diligently, perhaps even more diligently than them, in getting the place in order. Once they acquired the buildings, Miko had grown quite anxious in his need to see it ready and sanctified before the enemy reached their walls.

Would you hold it still! Scar yelled as Potbelly once again allowed the bucket to slip to the side and only a quarter of Scar’s carefully compiled pile made it within. The rest scattered when he kicked in frustration.

You should be glad you can swing a sword with greater skill than you can push a broom. Spying the broom making for his head, Potbelly deftly dodged out of the way before it could connect. Laughing, he said, See!

Scar eyed him with great irritation for a moment before Father Keller walked into the room.

The priest paused just within the door, scanned the lack of progress his two helpers had accomplished and pursed his lips.

Looking for a volunteer, he said after a few additional moments of silence.

I’m your man, Scar offered as the broom hit the floor. Anything to get out of here.

Father Keller hid the smile threatening to break forth. These were his worst helpers and if truth be told, often times their efforts added to the mess rather than reduced it.

Once we get up and running, we’re going to offer food to those in need…

And you need someone to procure what you need? Scar asked, interrupting him.

Precisely.

How much gold will we have to spend? Potbelly asked.

Uh, that’s just it. We don’t have much.

He pulled a small pouch from out of his shirt and handed it to Scar.

Scar hefted the pouch with a frown. What are we supposed to buy with this? Half a loaf of bread and a bag of tubers?

Buy what you can, the priest replied. We will need a lot and it is possible with the coming troubles there could be some willing to sell at a discount before they flee the city.

Doubt that, Potbelly returned. Usually everything gets more expensive before a siege.

Father Keller sighed. Do what you can.

We’ll need to take Hikai with us, Scar said. He can speak the language better than either of us.

Very well.

How soon do you think you will need the food?

We could use some for just us, now. As soon as the temple is ready, we will sanctify it. He thought a moment. Two days? He paused a moment as he eyed the pair. Perhaps sooner.

That doesn’t give us much time.

Scar shook his head in agreement.

Do what you can.

That we will, Scar asserted. Turning to Potbelly, he said, Come on. We better see how things fare in the city.

They found Hikai carrying a chest of clothes out of the manor.

You’re with us, they said. We have food to buy.

The young mage bobbed his head in acknowledgement then set down the chest. As you wish, Masters.

Now, you don’t need to be calling us that, Scar said.

Especially among the locals. It will draw too much attention.

Hikai had never really relaxed in their company as had Azhan. He tended to be nervous and tentative around them and the others. The only ones he completely relaxed around were Miko and his fellow mage, Azhan.

Just then Kip emerged with a large roll of carpet draped over one shoulder. He looked like he was struggling just to keep upright beneath its weight.

What’s going on?

Scar turned to him. Taking Hikai into the city to see about supplies.

Face lighting up, the young novice tilted to the side and dumped the roll of carpet onto the floor. Can I come? His eyes pleaded with them to take him.

From behind, Father Vickor’s voice answered, You have work here, Kip.

The priest appeared in the doorway holding a broom. Kip turned around and saw in his expression no chance to be relieved of his duties. Visibly sagging with disappointment, he groaned as he picked up the rug. Yes, Father. Then he mumbled something unintelligible under his breath and went to throw it onto a wagon they had borrowed to remove unwanted items.

Father Vickor watched Kip for a time before turning back to Scar. Life of a Novice is not easy.

No, Scar agreed, I suppose not. Then he nodded and added, Father, before he and Potbelly made a quick departure with Hikai to search for food.

Chapter Two

During the following two hours they came to realize Potbelly’s prediction about the price of food had been quite accurate. Everyone wanted to sell, but they all wanted far too many golds for meager portions.

The Council’s buying every bit it can get its hands on, one merchant explained. Those known to carry surplus have sold all they had. He eyed them knowingly. "I’ve even heard that if you don’t sell to them at a decent price, they’ll just take what they want in the name of the coming conflict and don’t pay anything.

Why, old Turnic who deals with many of the outlying farmers and growers had his entire warehouse emptied just last night. Rumor has it he refused to sell and when the guards came to take what he had, tried to fight them.

What happened?

He jerked a thumb to the west side of town. They’re burying him right now I believe.

Appreciate it, Scar said.

The merchant nodded as they left his establishment.

Looks like Father Keller may be out of luck, Potbelly said.

Maybe, Scar replied. Then he turned to Hikai. Anything you can do?

The young mage looked surprised at the question. About what?

Food, Scar said. Anything magical you can do to create large quantities of food?

Hikai shook his head. I am sorry, but no.

Scar swallowed the Then what good are you? that wanted to come out. Instead he gazed at the people on the streets and then to the businesses that had been closed, most of which were boarded up after their owners’ departure.

Wonder if they left anything behind?

Potbelly nodded. Could have.

Maybe we should investigate a few after dark.

Okay. What should we do until then? Return to the temple?

"By the gods, no!" Scar exclaimed. They’ll have us pushing a broom again. Let’s have an ale.

Chuckling, Potbelly slapped him on the back and they headed to a tavern on the corner. Hikai followed a step behind.

Once the sun went down, they left the tavern and made their way to the alley running between two homes that had been boarded up. There they found doorways leading to either building. Turning to the one on the right, Scar tested the door and found it locked.

Can you open it? he asked Hikai.

Nodding, the mage stepped to the door, spoke a quick incantation and the lock clicked open.

Handy, Potbelly mused.

It has been on several occasions.

Why did they teach you that? Scar asked.

Blushing slightly, Hikai replied, They did not.

Scar looked at him with new appreciation. He grinned and slapped the apprentice on the back. I may get to like you yet.

Hikai gave him a small smile then stepped aside so the other two may be the first to enter.

The room beyond the door was shrouded in darkness. Very little could be discerned by the dim light coming through the opened door.

Potbelly turned to Hikai. Light?

An orb similar to James’ but with a more yellowish hue sprang to life. It gave just enough illumination for them to see the furnishings and to make their way from one room to the next.

The home looked to have been owned by someone of modest means.

Potbelly gestured to a hallway. I think the pantry is through there.

Eyeing a candleholder that may be more silver than bronze, Scar glanced from it and said, Let’s check it out. He left the candleholder and followed them into the hallway.

Two doorways loomed open not far down. The one on the right proved to be the pantry. A single sack of tubers and a half-filled bag of flour were all that remained.

Potbelly took them. Not much.

No, Scar agreed. But it’s a start.

Four houses later they had accumulated sufficient quantities that their arms were filled to capacity. They headed back to the temple.

Two blocks from the temple, two shadows detached from the greater darkness and came up behind them. The tip of a thin, sharp blade pressed into the back of Scar’s neck.

Don’t move, whispered the owner of the dagger. Or you are a dead man.

Another shadow moved in the darkness before them but they could not discern any details.

Bunch of thieves we got here, the voice announced to his fellows; chuckles came from the darkness.

In one fluid motion, Scar bent forward as his right leg lashed back to connect with the man behind him. Drawing his swords as he spun, he slashed with his right and lunged with his left.

Twin daggers easily knocked the blades aside.

Nice move, the shadow said as it stepped into the light.

Potbelly laughed when he saw Tinok.

Are you mad! Scar exclaimed. I could have killed you.

I doubt that, Tinok replied in all seriousness.

The other two shadows stepped forward. One was Jiron and the other Shorty.

Heard you were on grocery detail, Jiron said. He nudged the sacks Scar had dropped during his attack. Not much.

You can’t get much when you got no gold to spend, Scar spat. This whole town has raised their prices to such an extent that we’d be lucky to buy enough food to feed ourselves let alone anyone else.

You’re searching in the wrong place, Jiron said.

What do you mean?

Follow us and we’ll show you. With that, he turned on his heel and led the way.

Potbelly looked to Scar who still fumed. Come on.

I almost killed him, he insisted.

Potbelly nodded. Yes, you did. He’s lucky to be alive.

Somewhat mollified, Scar headed out after Jiron.

Glancing to Hikai, Potbelly shook his head and mouthed silently, No, he didn’t.

Hikai gave a slight grin then joined him in following Jiron.

They circumvented the temple area and delved deeper into town. It soon became clear that Jiron was leading them to Abu Dar’s administrative district wherein were housed the Council’s chambers and most of the councilmen’s’ estates. On the eastern edge of that area stood several large storage buildings.

They’ve been laying in food all day in anticipation of a siege, Jiron explained.

Are you suggesting we relieve them of their surplus? Scar asked.

Tinok nodded. There won’t be a siege. It will be over quick once the enemy’s magical weapons come into play.

So, Potbelly began, we’ll actually be stealing from the invaders.

One way to look at it, Shorty agreed.

The storage areas were set apart from the administrative buildings. A walled courtyard fully encompassed them; guards walked the perimeter. They paused in the shadows not far from the gate leading into the storage area. A squad of ten soldiers loitered in front.

Scar turned to Jiron. I hope there’s another way in?

The knifer nodded. This way, he said then led them around the building and toward one that was boarded up.

I take it James doesn’t know about this? Potbelly asked.

No, Jiron replied, nor does he need to. He eyed Hikai when he said that last.

The mage glanced from one to another, then nodded. I understand.

Scar nodded approvingly and slapped him on the back. Okay, then.

The door to the boarded-up house opened easily and Jiron led them in. He then passed through the living room and down the hall to steps leading down. He lit a candle before descending. Crates and barrels filled the basement. Some looked to have not been there very long.

I think this is a smuggling operation, Jiron quietly announced.

The boarded-up house being a front? Potbelly asked.

Most likely, he replied. Pulling up the trapdoor, noxious sewer vapors wafted up from below.

Potbelly sighed. Why is it always the sewers?

Because no one wants to go down there, Scar explained with an added tone indicating he should have known that.

Casting an annoyed look at his friend, Potbelly followed Jiron down. Shorty came last and closed the trapdoor.

Jiron had a torch lit by the time Shorty descended the ladder. Not far down the tunnel, opposite the area where the storage warehouses were located, loomed a series of thick, iron bars that effectively blocked all passage.

Tinok indicated the set of rungs they had just come down as well as the area surrounding it. Looks like they broke through from above and made this to by-pass the bars.

They might be a bit annoyed if they should find us here, Shorty said.

So? Scar said with a laugh. I could use a diversion.

Jiron turned to him and nodded. As could I. But, we have more important things in the offing.

Scar rolled his eyes.

Taking the lead, Jiron headed down the passage away from the iron bars. While they made their way to the access trapdoor leading to the storage area, he eyed the passage floor. Though there were tracks, the ones they had left during their earlier reconnaissance looked newest.

We should be almost under the first warehouse, Scar said after two-score yards.

We couldn’t find a direct access to the warehouses, Jiron explained.

So, Scar replied, where are you taking us?

There’s a barracks that houses guards keeping an eye on them.

Barracks? Potbelly asked. Isn’t that rather risky?

No, Shorty said, then he grinned. The access to the sewers is broken and they don’t stay there due to the smell.

Convenient.

We hope so.

Coming to where a crack of light filtered down from above, they reached rungs set into the side of the passage. They led up to the source of the light.

Let me check it out, Jiron said. He handed Tinok the torch and started up.

While they waited, Scar turned to Hikai. That was a neat trick what you did with the lock.

Thank you.

What else can you do?

The mage eyed him quizzically. What do you mean?

Well, can you affect the outcome of dice? Make the number you want come up?

Hikai looked down. Such is not allowed.

I didn’t ask that, Scar said. Can you?

Ever so briefly, Hikai nodded.

Scar broke out into a grin. Slapping the mage on the back, he said, Another useful trick.

I do not believe my master would approve.

Maybe not, Scar replied. But we’re not with him right now and coins are in short supply.

Hikai did not appear to be comfortable with fixing dice; so not wanting to completely lose this potential for gain, Scar dropped it…for now.

The light from above brightened as Jiron cracked the trapdoor open. He peered around then opened it fully and slipped through closing after he had cleared the door. Minutes passed and the door opened again.

It’s clear, he said, waving them up.

Shorty started to climb with Hikai behind. Tinok brought up the rear.

The trapdoor was set in the floor of the main barracks by the number of beds and chests contained within the room. Several looked slept-in but otherwise the place was deserted. The odor of sewer was strong in the room.

I can see why they would not want to remain here long, Potbelly stated.

Jiron nodded then went to a window; he pointed to a building across the shadowy courtyard.

That’s where they brought the food.

The building in question rose two stories in height and had a wide, strong-looking wooden door standing closed. A few guards patrolled the area but otherwise it was deserted.

Looks formidable, Potbelly said.

Jiron turned from the window. Around to the side is a small access door that we should be able to use. Glancing to Hikai, he asked, Are you going to be okay with this? He hadn’t been sure how he would take stealing from his countrymen.

But the young mage merely nodded. I understand the necessity.

Very well.

Moving to the door, he cracked it open, peered through, then turned back to the others. We can’t let anyone know we’ve been here. To Scar and Tinok, he said with emphasis; No fighting or knocking anyone unconscious.

Tinok gave a curt nod while Scar whispered, We’ll be like the wind.

As Jiron opened the door and checked again to make sure the coast was clear, he heard Potbelly say to Scar, You know, sometimes the wind blows awfully hard and knocks buildings down. Maybe we should be more like shadows. Shadows don’t affect their surroundings. Pausing to give the pair a look that silenced them, he then emerged into the courtyard.

Keeping to the shadows, they worked their way around the courtyard, pausing twice when guards emerged on their patrols. Once they were again out of sight, they continued on. When at last they reached their destination, Tinok stepped forward to work on the lock.

Wait a second, Scar said. He then motioned Hikai forward. Let him do it?

What? Jiron questioned.

Nodding to the door, Scar said to the mage, Make it fast.

Hikai stepped forward and a moment later a nearly-silent ‘click’ was heard.

Jiron eyed the mage and then Scar. Keeping his thoughts to himself, he opened the door and passed through.

Inside was dark. Hikai created a barely luminescent orb similar to James’. It emitted just enough light to allow them to see. Once the door was shut, Jiron positioned Shorty by a window to keep watch for the guards.

Sacks, boxes and crates were stacked nearly to the ceiling. A flight of steps on the east wall led up to the second floor. The room smelled of grain, yeast, and a score of other foodstuffs.

What should we take? never having been much of a cook, Scar hadn’t a clue beyond the basics, meat and ale, for what the temple would require.

Corn meal, yeast, flour, Jiron began.

From where small kegs were stacked ten high, Potbelly said, Got honey here.

That will work. Grab a couple.

They began gathering an assortment of various foodstuffs with emphasis on corn and flour. Both corn and corn meal were found, they took two sacks of each. Hikai gathered a sack with ten cheese wedges as well as a small cask of salt.

Once they had all they could safely handle, Shorty gave them the go-ahead from his position at the window and they returned the way they had come. Picking up the large sack of corn the others had set near him, the knifer was the last to leave.

Hikai reset the lock once he was through and they retraced their steps. Leaving proved to be just as easy as getting in. The barracks remained empty. Then down the ladder, through the sewer and a struggle to get their ill-gotten goods up through the smuggler entrance. Once all sacks and casks had been hauled from the sewer, they carried them through the house to the door.

We shouldn’t be seen carrying these through the streets, Shorty said. The last thing we want is for someone to remember us should the missing stores be discovered.

Jiron turned to him. What do you suggest?

Shorty shrugged. Just saying.

Scar turned a questioning look to Hikai.

The mage shook his head. I have no skill to help in this.

The Pit Master frowned.

But, the mage continued. I may have an idea.

What?

Sometime later that morning before the sun even thought about cresting the horizon, a wagon trundled through the streets of Abu Dar. Driving it was a lad pushing fifteen summers. Dressed in worn homespun, he looked quite non-descript. The wagon bed behind him heaped with all manner of broken furniture, torn rags and a sundry of other broken or otherwise useless items.

Those he passed eyed him, curious as to why he was about at such an early hour. But once they saw the pile of refuse filling the wagon bed, they gave him no more attention figuring him to either be heading to dump his load in the countryside, or on his way to sell the refuse to one of the few businesses that took such items for use in furnaces required for their industry. Either way, he didn’t have anything of value so none gave him more than a passing glance.

Had they paid closer attention to his passing, they may have realized he had passed through the area more than once during the wee hours of the morning. A closer scrutiny might have revealed that the refuse only extended to the sides of the wagon bed. The area below was filled with sacks and casks recently purloined from the city’s storehouses.

The lad drove his wagon in a roundabout way along main thoroughfares and down a couple alleys. When at last it came to a stop, several forms detached from the shadows and converged on the wagon that now sat in the newly converted courtyard of Morcyth’s newest temple.

Is this the last load? Kip asked.

Jiron stepped into the faint light coming from a nearby window. For now.

With this and the three previous loads, Scar said, Father Keller should have sufficient foodstuffs to feed many people.

At mention of Father Keller, they turned toward the priest’s window as if speaking his name would summon him to discover their nefarious nocturnal adventure.

As far as he’s concerned, Jiron said to the others, Scar and Potbelly got this from a local merchant in desperate need of coins to fund his flight from the invaders. He turned to Hikai. Right?

The mage bobbed his head.

Now, let’s get our covering of debris back to the trash heap before the others wake.

Kip gave out with a big yawn. His eyes were heavy but he helped transfer debris back to the trash pile and casks to the kitchen area. He had been excited when Scar had woken him earlier in the evening for a little clandestine adventure. But now, he just wanted his bed. Morning would come all too soon.

Chapter Three

The morning sun sparkled upon the helms and armaments of defenders lining Lak Tir’s battlements. Guardsmen, soldiers, along with every man strong enough to wield a blade stood ready to defend their city.

A veritable swarm of men had them besieged. They were outnumbered fifty to one. Such odds would not normally cause worry as their walls were strong, they were well provisioned and morale remained high. But with priests of Gyomias manning strange weapons dealing powerful magical energies, the outcome remained far from certain.

Would their walls withstand these new weapons?

Sailors told and retold stories about how these same weapons had set fire to ships and sails alike. The hope was that they would prove ineffective against the stone comprising their walls. The only weak spot would be the gate and in anticipation of the enemy bringing those weapons to bear, the defenders had gathered scores of water barrels atop the wall near the gate.

Surrounding the walls, the enemy formed into units; over two-score of the magical weapons had been positioned around Lak Tir. Ten formed a semi-circle before the gate, the others were scattered throughout the rest of the attackers.

They won’t last long.

Jiron turned to Miko and shook his head. Once those weapons take out the gate, the battle will be over.

James nodded.

The three stood in the small room of the manor house which they had begun to call the Viewing Room. It was there that they kept an eye on the enemy as well as their families. Not long after the rising of the sun they watched as Melia’s Dream sailed within sight of Cardri’s Capitol. Knowing that their families were safe, they turned their attention to the siege of Lak Tir.

The invaders had constructed many ladders and siege towers. Every so often, a volley of rocks would launch from a defending catapult only to fall short of the enemy’s line.

Priests moved into position to man their magical weapons. For a moment the enemy’s ranks held their position, then as if by some unseen command, their entire force surged forward.

Dozens of defending catapults let fly their deadly projectiles. Where the rain of stones fell, men died. But they had little effect in slowing the attackers. They converged on six separate points along the wall, the greatest concentration to either side of the gates.

A hail of arrows flew from both sides finding marks in defenders and attackers alike. Ladders were raised and set against the top of the wall. Men began to climb.

Defenders thrust the ladders back with long poles capped with a hook for just such work. But for every ladder pushed back, another would take its place. All the while, upon those ladders that remained in position, men scrambled for the top.

James shifted the focus to where the priests and their weapons remained immobile before the gate.

Are they waiting until the battle becomes fiercest? Miko asked.

Could be they are hesitant about committing them, Jiron said. Then he looked to James. After all, they lost many ships and they may not understand the why behind it.

James understood what he meant. During their flight not too long ago, James had taken out more than a few of the enemy’s warships. Let’s hope they forever remain ignorant.

Jiron grinned. At least for a while.

Attackers had topped the wall and the fighting grew fierce. Defenders threw back the attackers on one section only to have their line buckle in another. Reinforcements raced forward and soon that section of the battlements would again be clear of attackers.

Jiron pointed to a lone figure among the enemy line standing before a canopy beneath which had been set several benches and tables. Can we get a closer look at him?

Nodding, James shifted the view until the man came into focus. An older tonsured man wearing fine robes with gold inlay, his bearing marked him as someone of import. In his hand he held a crystal tracker-dove.

It’s one of those things that tracks mages, James said.

Jiron nodded. Thought so.

But it is not glowing, Miko added.

’Cause no magic is being used, James replied. He’s seeing if the defenders have mages.

I bet that’s why they have yet to commit their priests.

James glanced to Jiron and nodded. Would make sense.

As the battle raged, the man continued to hold the dove. The ribbon of golden light that they believed would glow in response to active magic, remained subdued, barely discernible. The dove also kept still, not rotating as had the one encountered earlier used by the priest on the ship. That one had glowed bright yellow and rotated toward James while he used magic. Since this one remained dormant, it would seem to indicate the lack of mages participating in Lak Tir’s defense.

They kept an eye on the man for a few more minutes, shifted the view back to gauge the tide of battle, then returned to the tonsured man. He would gaze at the crystal dove intently before turning his attention to the battle. After doing this several times, he turned to one of the six priests standing in attendance and nodded. Shortly afterward, the drivers of the wagons carrying the priestly weapons of magic flicked their reins and began rolling toward the gate.

A flurry of activity sprang into action on the wall overlooking the gate. Barrels were lifted and water cascaded down the outer, wooden surface. Catapults let fly a swarm of missiles. Their deadly projectiles sailed over the heads of the enemy gathered before the walls and made for the priestly machines. As in the ships James had combated upon the ocean, a shield flared into being and the rocks and other projectiles ricocheted harmlessly away. A couple found targets before reaching the ground; but by and large the attack had proven ineffective.

The wagons trundled forward slowly. Each priestly weapon had a priest standing behind it, waiting for the signal to fire.

Another volley erupted from the catapults. This time barrels and flaming balls of pitch slammed into the priests’ protective barrier. Flames spread rapidly as the burning pitch ignited oil contained within the barrels.

For several minutes an inferno raged. But then the fire subsided and when the flames and smoke dissipated, the wagons continued on. Again, the defenders had been unable to inhibit their approach.

From other parts of the attacker’s lines, bolts of priestly magic flared. Where they struck, areas of defenders were swept away. Soon their men gained the walls in numbers great enough that the defenders could no longer dislodge.

Then the wagons came to a halt. There was a brief pause before ten beams of golden light flared forth to strike a single point at the center of the gate.

Defenders emptied barrel after barrel in an attempt to thwart the destruction of the gate. Despite the deluge, smoke began to rise.

James focused in closer to one of the priests and his weapon. Of the six glowing crystals, two were already cracked and depleted, a third dimmed quickly as its power was utilized in sustaining the attack.

Smoke rose in greater quantities from the wooden gate.

The third crystal cracked and still the gate held.

Think they’ll take it out?

James glanced to Jiron and shrugged. They are almost out of power.

I do not think it will matter, Miko added. They have taken nearly three sections of wall. Indeed, their crossbowmen and archers had gained the heights and were loosing projectiles on the defenders.

By the time the fourth crystal had cracked, the defenders supply of water ran out. Without the water to combat the magic, flames appeared and before the fifth crystal had been depleted, the gate erupted in a massive, fiery conflagration.

Those defenders on the wall above were burned alive. Many ran or fell off into the city below, clothes and hair flaming all the way.

Then the gate cracked and blasted inward. Soldiers waiting before it surged inside.

James sighed. It’s over.

The defenders gave a valiant effort but it was a foregone conclusion. With the enemy on the walls and within the city, they could no longer put forth an effective defense. Pockets of men surrendered; others fought to the death. But in the end, the city was taken.

James turned to Jiron. How soon do you think until they make it here?

A day to consolidate their position, he replied. Maybe another day or two to prepare, then they will march. We’re the nearest city of consequence after Lak Tir.

He returned to the view and saw that the fighting was pretty much over. The pillage and harm to citizens that usually accompanied the sacking of a city didn’t appear to be happening. In fact, the attacking priests were even now moving among the defenders; healing wounds and providing what succor they could.

Odd, do you not think?

Jiron nodded. Usually the conquering army goes on a rampage of pillage and rape. They seem more interested in taking care of those they had just defeated.

Most of the priests had abandoned their magical devices to others as they set about saving what lives they could. Five of the machines were even now making their way through the streets toward the Keep. Hundreds of soldiers accompanied them.

Even the tonsured man they had seen with the crystal tracker-dove moved among those requiring aid. He paused near a man lying on the ground, a great pool of blood had spread where the man’s leg had been severed; though conscious the injured man looked near death. The priest summoned a nearby soldier who placed the severed limb against the bleeding stump. Golden light flared and after a few minutes, the leg was once again whole. As the priest stood, two litter bearers arrived to collect the man and carry him to a nearby warehouse the attackers were converting into a make-shift hospital.

The tonsured man then went to another. That scene replayed over and over with priest after priest.

What about Warlord Halim’s Keep? Jiron asked.

The Warlord hadn’t been on the walls. He must have been directing the defenses from there.

James shifted the scene to the Keep. It had been surrounded and an enemy priest stood before the gate looking to be speaking to those within. An arrow flew from the battlements and ricocheted off a protective shield.

The priest looked more sorrowful than angry at their response. Again he spoke, his arms gesticulating to emphasize whatever it was that he said. Before he finished, another arrow was fired. Sighing, he turned his back on the Keep and the five wagons carrying priests and their weapons rolled into position.

An armored man stood near the top, sword in hand. By the fine craftsmanship of his armor and defiant bearing this could only be Warlord Halim.

As they had when attacking the city, soldiers with ladders surged forward first and once the attack was in full swing, the priests came forward with their weapons. The Keep’s door succumbed to their power very quickly and men swarmed within.

The trio watched as attackers gained the upper battlements.

Warlord Halim and a knot of soldiers stood against the raging tide. His men were cut down around him and still the Warlord would not yield. Sword weaving an arc of death, all who came near fell to his blade. As his blade moved, the pile of bodies around him steadily grew.

He is a mighty warrior, Jiron said with some sadness.

But even a mighty warrior cannot overcome hundreds. While killing one man with a thrust through the neck, the blade of an attacker came from behind and found a way through his armor. Staggered, Warlord Halim pivoted and drove his sword into the chest of the man.

Another blow from behind dropped the Warlord to his knees. His sword slipped from his grip and he crashed to the battlements.

Instead of finishing him, the enemy soldiers stepped back and a priest