Fires of Prophecy: The Morcyth Saga Book Two (54 page)

A noise behind him causes him to turn and
the sight both fills him with anticipation and dread. A small
creature, only a foot in height sits on the table behind him. It’s
scaly, somewhat man-like form is bent over as if from carrying too
much weight. Red eyes aglow with an inner light stare from its
gnarled head at Abula-Mazki with cruel intelligence.

“A Hikuli!” Abula-Mazki exclaims aloud.

The Hikuli stares at him for a second longer
before vanishing. Abula-Mazki instantly understands the
significance of such a visit. Only one person on this world
commands the Hikuli.

Looking back toward the destruction wrought
under his dominion, he realizes there can be only one reason for
him to be summoned to the High Temple.

With a thought, he summons one of his
acolytes waiting in the adjoining room who immediately opens the
door and enters. “A Hikuli has come,” he tells the acolyte.

He can see the fear and uncertainty in the
man’s eyes. The acolyte nods his head in answer and then leaves,
closing the door behind him.

Abula-Mazki turns back to the window,
contemplating the summons until the door again opens. The acolyte
returns with others bearing Abula-Mazki’s armor and sword. He
remains still as he allows them to put the heavy armor upon him and
strap his sword belt around his waist. As his acolytes prepare him
for his audience with the High Priest of Dmon-Li, he continues to
stare out the window at the destruction.

When the last strap has been secured, they
quietly turn and file out the door, leaving him once more
alone.

Turning from the window, he walks over to a
nearby wall and says “Hirun alib Mugana” and a section disappears,
leaving a doorway open into an adjoining room.

No one but Abula-Mazki has ever been within
this room, at least none living at this time. Stepping within, he
walks to the center where a raised dais lies. Upon the dais is the
symbol of the Warrior Priests of Dmon-Li, three dots forming the
points of a triangle with connecting lines in between.

Stepping upon the dais, he activates the
magic within and suddenly he’s standing upon a matching one in the
middle of a small, dark room. A solitary candle burns in a nearby
wall niche doing its best to keep back the shadows of this grim
place. The room is cold, cold to the skin and cold to the soul. A
cowled figure stands waiting, and as soon as Abula-Mazki’s eyes
fall upon him, turns to leave without a word.

Without hesitation, Abula-Mazki steps off
the dais and follows the cowled figure out of the room and down a
long corridor.

He’s passed this way several times before,
but never with the dread filling him now. As he walks, more of the
Hikuli pop in and out as they see who has come and then go to
inform their master. None can walk the halls of Ith-Zirul without
gaining their notice.

They finally come to the entrance to the
Halls of Despair, the audience chamber of Ozgirath, High Priest of
Dmon-Li. The cowled figure that had led him here waits until he
passes into the room before he turns around and leaves.

If the rest of Ith-Zirul was cold, this room
is absolutely frigid. Across the room from where he enters, lies a
seat made entirely out of bones, some human, others not. On either
side of the dark throne are two braziers burning with a purplish
glow which seen to suck the warmth from Abula-Mazki as he
approaches. Seated upon the throne is a dark figure. Glowing eyes,
yellow and piercing, stare out at him from the shadows surrounding
the throne as he approaches.

When he reaches the requisite distance, he
falls to his knees and bows his head. “I have come, great one,” he
says in reverence to the figure before him.

“Arise,” he hears Ozgirath’s command, though
it isn’t so much a voice, as a thought.

Coming to his feet, he stands there in
humility, waiting.

“The Star shines again,” the voice says.

Gasping, Abula-Mazki lifts his head and
looks directly at Ozgirath and says, “The Star of Morcyth?”

“Say not that name here,” the voice
commands.

“I plead forgiveness master,” he says, again
bowing his head.

“But, yes,” the voice replies, “it again
moves across the land.”

“I had thought all were destroyed during the
great purging,” he says.

“No,” Ozgirath replies, “they were not. Some
escaped and have never been found.”

Fear of being chastised for the destruction
in his dominion begins to leave him. If he was here for that
reason, they would hardly be having this conversation. “What would
you have me do, master?” he asks.

“Hunt for the one wearing the Star,” he
replies.

Abula-Mazki raises his head and stares into
the glowing eyes as Ozgirath says, “And bring him to me.”

Warrior Priest of Dmon-Li

Check out the epically adventurous worlds of
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For those who enjoy dungeon exploration

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3-A reward must be given. For what good is
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