Dark Shores of Salvation, page 14
part #3 of Travails of the Dark Mage Series
“What do you mean?”
“Why come to a town that is about to be attacked? Doesn’t make much sense to me.”
“Nor does it make sense for someone to remain in a city about to be attacked. One would think a wise man would flee to live another day.”
Master Iz laughed. “Me and mine will be all right. To us, it matters little who runs the city.”
“Because in actuality, you run it?”
Their captor shrugged. “That depends on your point of view I would guess. Now, about the temple? What is your real reason for coming to Abu Dar?”
Nodding to Azhan, Miko replied, “My friend and I came in search of refuge. As for the priests, from what I have heard them say, they came to aid the poor and destitute, and to do their part in alleviating the pain and suffering brought on by this war.”
“Very altruistic.”
Miko shrugged. “It is their calling.”
“And I don’t believe that for a moment.”
Again, Miko shrugged. “Then perhaps you should ask them.”
Master Iz drew his knife and pointed it at Azhan. “Maybe I’ll slice off bits of your friend here until you tell me what I want to know.”
He gestured to three of his men who grabbed Azhan from behind.
Though he struggled against their efforts, they held him firm against the back of the couch. A third came forward and pulled his arm outward to where Master Iz could readily get at it.
Setting the blade against the tender flesh of Azhan’s inner forearm, Master Iz looked to Miko. “Are you going to tell me what I want to know?”
Miko debated how far he should allow this to go. While it was true that he could heal any damage done to Azhan, for the young mage having a knife fillet his flesh wouldn’t be pleasant. He glanced to him and saw the hard set of his jaw, the way his eyes locked onto the threatening blade. Miko knew the young mage would go to great lengths to please his master. But would that include allowing Master Iz to fillet his arm?
He further knew that the man threatening Azhan would have no qualms about performing such a deed. A drop of blood welled forth from beneath the razor-sharp edge.
“Well?”
What Miko would have done next became irrelevant as the outer door opened to admit the man Master Iz had dispatched earlier with the crystal tracker-dove. Along with him came three others; two were slaves while the third looked to be a merchant of some kind. The tracker-dove glowed where it rested upon the merchant’s palm; its head pointed in their direction.
He turned to Azhan and could feel the prickling of his skin indicating nearby active magic. So engrossed had he been with Master Iz that he hadn’t even noticed. The look in Azhan’s face said he was close to letting it go.
The merchant’s eyes burned with a fanatic’s fire. “Unclean Ones!” he hissed.
Smoldering balls of wadding were hurled toward them from the two slaves accompanying the merchant. Miko’s first thought was that the smoldering balls would have the same mage-nullifying effects similar to those of Scar and Potbelly. Then the slaves each drew long, wicked knives and raced forward.
Miko created protective shields around the smoldering wadding before they had gone more than ten feet. They landed on the floor near the couch, bounced once then rolled to a stop. Their acrid, blue-green smoke filled the interior of the protective shields in place around them. He didn’t have time to wonder if the effect would be the same as Scar and Potbelly’s, or if it would prove to be more insidious.
“Azhan!” he hollered as the white glow of Morcyth sprang forth to surround him.
An explosion of blistering fire erupted outward from Azhan sending Master Iz flying across the room to slam with bone-shattering force against the far wall. The trio of men holding onto Azhan were likewise blasted away. The rancid odor of burnt hair and flesh quickly filled the room.
Women screamed, men cursed and the room descended into chaos as half tried to flee; the other half drew weapons.
The man who had held onto Azhan’s forearm cried in pain from where he writhed in a smoldering pile not far from the couch. Miko saw the hilt of his sword protruding from beneath charred cloth. He leapt forward and drew it as the two slaves came at him, their knives seeking to take his life. The weapon had been heated to a painful degree by Azhan’s fiery explosion, but the power of Morcyth soothed the pain and Miko gave it no more thought.
Searing heat singed hairs on his arm as a fireball flew past and took out one of the advancing slaves. The resultant explosion caused the other to hesitate, allowing Miko to make short work of him. A single pass to draw the slave’s knife to the outside, then a quick alteration of movement sent the blade through the man’s abdomen.
The slave looked at him in disbelief as Miko pulled the blade free.
Azhan stood by his side.
“Will my master forgive me?”
“What?” Miko asked, then saw the young apprentice’s worried expression. He’d used magic without James’ permission. “If we make it out of here alive, he will understand.”
A quick scan of the room showed all noncombatants having fled. Seven men remained, none being the merchant. The enemy had escaped. All had weapons drawn and one wound the windlass of a crossbow. None seemed willing to approach the pair or even knew what to do. The man nearest the door lost his nerve, tossed his weapon aside and fled the scene of carnage.
“Should we kill them?”
Miko wondered the same thing. The kid from Bearn felt that would be the appropriate thing to do, but the High Priest in him was reluctant to take the lives of those not engaged in his immediate ruination. But when the crossbowman set bolt to his weapon and aimed it, indecision vanished.
“Take him.”
Azhan let fly with a bolt of fiery death at the same time the crossbowman released his missile. Azhan’s fiery mass turned the crossbow bolt to ash midway between them, then a moment later slammed into the crossbowman with deadly effect.
Knocked back, the man’s clothes burst into flame. Wreathed in fire, he raced about until collapsing to the ground. He didn’t move again.
First one then another of those remaining in the room tossed down their weapons to make a mad dash for the door; knocking each other out of the way in their haste to escape a similar fate.
Fires burned throughout the room, including the couch upon which they had so recently been held captive.
“We better get out of here.”
Miko glanced to the young mage and nodded.
Outside, a growing commotion developed as townsfolk converged on the building to work to put out the growing inferno. Miko’s thoughts raced; there was going to be no way to hide the fact that they were there, nor that they had been the cause. He could hear his name being shouted by those outside, most likely those that had recently fled. Maybe he should have killed them? Sighing, he looked around at the devastation he and Azhan had wrought.
Master Iz laid dead, as well as many of his men. Fire spread rapidly and a growing cloud of smoke filled the room. The only escape was through the main door.
A burst of heat and sparks from behind drew their attention to where the fire raced up a curtain and now threatened the rafters.
Miko felt a tug on his arm.
“Come on,” Azhan said as he encouraged him toward the door.
His mind whirled. James wanted to keep, as he put it, a low profile, but that was no longer an option. After this, everyone was going to know a mage had come to Abu Dar. James was still unknown; he was certain down to his core that keeping the focus from James was paramount.
A timber cracked and the wall sagged inward; a shower of sparks pelted them.
Azhan managed to coax Miko several feet toward the door before the High Priest brought them to a halt. He heard him mumble, “If there is going to be a mage in Abu Dar, then by the gods let there be one!”
Miko came to a halt and grabbed his arm, holding him fast. He laid a hand on the young mage’s shoulder.
“The time for hiding is past.”
“But, my master…”
Miko shook his head.
“Forget that. From this point on, you are Azhan, Mage of the Empire.” He spoke quickly for little time remained. “You came here in secret to ferret out enemy agents and to aid Abu Dar in its time of need.” He pulled Azhan closer. “We tell no one of your Master, and speak not of the Temple.”
Azhan nodded.
“I am your servant.”
His eyes widened.
“Cannot be helped. They know we are together, so together we must remain. You must be a Mage of the Empire.” His tone relayed what he thought that should entail. “Understand?”
Azhan nodded and couldn’t help but show a grin. He knew very well what a Mage of the Empire should be.
“Now, can we leave?”
The sagging wall collapsed further, forcing them to hurry forward out of the way.
“Yes.”
With eyes stinging and smoke irritating their lungs, they hurried for the door.
“There they are!” a voice shouted as they emerged from the burning building.
“They killed Master Iz!” another cried.
Miko wiped the smoke-induced tears from his eyes as he worked to focus on those gathering around him. When they finally cleared enough to see, he saw a line of townsfolk stretching to the nearest well. Water-filled buckets passed down the line only to be emptied on the burning building. Mikah and the girls stood in the crowd looking at him nervously while several town guards approached with swords drawn; two others covered them from behind their fellows with drawn crossbows.
“Stay where you are,” an older guardsman, his insignia marking him a captain, demanded as he approached.
Beside him, Miko heard Azhan cough.
“Kill them!”
Turning to the voice, Miko recognized one of Master Iz’ henchmen that had fled at the end; two others stood with him.
Azhan stepped toward the one demanding their death. Raising his hand, he pointed his forefinger toward the man then quickly raised it up. The ground trembled for but a moment before a narrow spire of rock and stone shot upward between the man’s feet. His screams of pain as it impaled him ended soon when the spire’s tip emerged through the back of his neck. The crowd fell back in terror. Then the spire exploded outward, shredding the man.
The bucket brigade faltered with this new development.
Pointing to the man’s two cohorts, Azhan said, “Captain, take those two. They are in league with the enemy.”
“Who are you?”
“Azhan, Mage of the Empire.”
The two men in question were already fleeing through the crowd.
“Get them,” the captain ordered. Several of his men raced off in pursuit.
Where a moment ago panic had threatened to send the onlookers fleeing in terror, hope began to replace their fear.
…a mage has come…
…we are saved…
They gave the grisly area surrounding what had once been one of Master Iz’s henchmen a wide berth while attempting to draw closer.
Miko looked over the gathered people. His eyes focused on a figure standing in a doorway. Potbelly gave him a nod, then jerked his head off to the right. Miko nodded in return when he saw the man who had entered Master Iz’s place with the crystal dove peering at the unfolding events from a window.
“Let’s go,” Azhan said to him as he headed for the castle area. He only took two steps before the captain blocked his way with a raise of his hand.
Fear was evident on his face when Azhan came to stop before him. There was a tremor in his voice as he said, “I need to know what your intentions are before I can allow you to proceed.”
Azhan didn’t answer right away. The crowd got quiet and the Captain began to sweat. Then his face blanched when Azhan raised his hand. But then Azhan simply gave a slight wave and replied, “Why, to save your city, Captain.”
A cheer went up from the townsfolk and the captain knew he would live to see another day.
Miko cast another surreptitious glance toward where the man had stared from the window only to find the window empty. Potbelly, too, had vanished in the growing group of onlookers. As the crowd cheered and opened a way for Azhan, he searched the jubilant faces and the surrounding area in vain for both men. Micah and the girls were also no longer present.
“Let’s go.”
He turned his attention back to Azhan, nodded and followed a step behind him as the dutiful servant he was supposed to be.
Chapter Thirteen
“What were they thinking!”
One of the temple’s regulars had come running, spreading the glad news that a mage was going to save the city. James at first thought his identity had been uncovered, but quickly learned the truth. He was in a foul mood.
“We are supposed to be avoiding attention, and now everyone in Abu Dar knows there is a mage in the city.” He turned to Jiron. “Not to mention my ‘apprentice’ used magic without my permission.” He wasn’t sure which bothered him most, their alerting the town to their presence, or Azhan working magic without authorization.
“I’m sure they had cause,” Jiron replied.
They now stood in the Viewing Room along with Father Vickor watching Miko and Azhan walking through a cheering throng on their way to the castle. Guards had taken position in front of them to clear the way; an equal number marched behind the pair as well. Whether as honor guard, or just guards taking prisoners, he couldn’t be entirely sure.
Miko looked calm and at ease. Twice now he had glanced to the sky and shrugged. James knew that had been directed at him.
“This could play to our advantage.”
Turning on Father Vickor, he scowled. “How?”
“When you unleash your magic during their attack, they are going to know a mage resides in Abu Dar. Azhan will now be the focus of their scrutiny when that happens.”
James grew thoughtful.
“They won’t look beyond him. We can remain here and do what needs doing without worry about their search for a hidden mage.”
He could see where that might prove beneficial, but he and his apprentice would have to have a long talk when this was over.
“Okay. First thing we need to do is get someone to them to find out what they are planning.”
“I could go,” Jiron offered.
James shook his head. “No. You are seen with me all the time and someone just might put that together. We need someone unobtrusive and who can pass without raising suspicion.”
“Kip?” Father Vickor suggested.
“I think so.”
Jiron nodded. “He has shown his worth in the past.”
“I’m sure they will be speaking with the Council for a while so we’ll have some time before Kip can make contact.” He returned his attention back to the Viewing Table. The scene shifted to where Scar, Shorty and Tinok still sat drinking at a tavern. The image pulled back until the sign outside the tavern came into view.
“The Three Drunkards,” Jiron said.
“Appropriate,” James replied. Then to Father Vickor, “Go and bring them back to the temple if you would.”
“What about us?” Jiron asked.
“We’re going to find Potbelly.”
The scene shifted once more. It clarified on Potbelly leaning against the side of an eatery. In one hand he held a mug, the other a meat-filled bread pocket. Zooming the view out, he soon had a good idea where to find him.
“Let’s plan to rendezvous back at the temple in an hour. Then we’ll figure out our best course of action.”
He still stewed about Miko and Azhan but his mind raced with thoughts on how to play this to his advantage. By the time they reached the streets, he had the beginnings of how he could make this work.
The mood of the townsfolk had definitely taken a turn for the better. Just this morning there had been fear and thoughts of flight. Now, there was renewed hope for the future and laughter could once more be heard.
They found Potbelly still leaning against the eatery. His meal eaten and the tankard sat on a short counter nearby. He saw them coming before they could close the distance. Raising a hand to just about his belly, he motioned for them to hang back. Then after a quick look to the right where several tables sat semi-filled with patrons, he jerked his head to the left and headed in that direction. Upon reaching the end of the eatery, he turned the corner.
They followed and found him waiting within the alley behind the eatery.
“What is going on?” James demanded at the same time Jiron asked, “Have you heard about Miko and Azhan?”
He laughed. “Heard about it? I was there.”
James scowled. “So, what happened?”
Potbelly quickly explained how he and Scar had stumbled upon what they were certain was a meeting of enemy agents dressed as slaves and another priest.
“Another priest?” James asked.
Potbelly nodded. “He was tonsured like the others have been and he was definitely in charge.”
“Go on.”
“We couldn’t get close enough to hear what was being said. Scar followed the priest when the meeting broke up; I followed a group of the ‘slaves.’ They led me to a merchant who I am sure is another enemy agent. He treated the men as equals and not as slaves.”
“At the inn,” James said, remembering having seen Potbelly following a merchant with two slaves.
“You were there?”
James nodded.
“From there they went to a manor where they met with two of the other slaves. Again, did not hear what was being said. Whatever they had been discussing was interrupted when another man entered bearing one of those crystal tracker-doves. The merchant got really excited and immediately left with that man. The two slaves went with him.
“I followed them until they came to a crowded alley. I hung back intending to follow when the merchant emerged. But then people started racing from the building screaming and shouting. A few minutes later the place erupted with fire and the merchant raced out. His slaves did not appear. He went to the building next to the one I was hiding in and kept an eye on what was going on.
