Shades of the Past: The Morcyth Saga Book Six (40 page)

Other than half a dozen of the date bearing
trees, the area surrounding the water is bare. The watering hole
itself is barely three feet wide and not very deep. The horses
eagerly approach and are allowed to drink their fill while they lay
out their bedrolls.

Once settled in and they are having a bite to
eat, he tells them what they are really after in the next town. As
he lays it out, Jared gets a look of disbelief while Jiron just
grins.

“Are you out of your mind?” exclaims Jared
when he finishes laying it out. “You are but one mage and you plan
to go up against dozens, maybe hundreds?”

“I don’t actually plan to fight the mages
themselves unless forced to,” he explains. Glancing over to Jiron
he sees the expectant look of impending battle. “My plan is to get
in there, destroy their library and get out fast.”

“And they will simply allow you to do that?”
questions Jared. “How do you plan on doing that with everyone
looking for you and knowing your approximate position?”

“Haven’t quite worked that out yet to tell
the truth,” he admits. “But take it from their point of view. Here
I am in hostile territory, just having gone through a draining
battle.” He glances to Jiron and asks, “What would be the logical
thing to do?”

“Certainly not take on a group of mages,” he
says with a nod. “They may not realize you know the School is even
there. But once you do, the smartest course you could take would be
to get as far away as possible. The last thing they will expect is
for you to attack, one mage against who knows how many.”

“Exactly!” declares James. Turning back to
Jared he adds, “They won’t expect it. Piece of cake.”

“You’re going to get us all killed,” Jared
grumbles.

“Likely,” he admits. “But no guts, no
glory.”

“Since when have you been interested in
glory?” asks Jiron with a wry grin.

James laughs and says, “I’m not. It seemed an
appropriate thing to say under the circumstances.” They both stare
at each other and then break into laughter once again. Not sure
where the laughter is coming from, maybe just giddy at still being
alive.

Jared just stares at them and shakes his
head.

Ka-Boom!

From the southwest a light flares in the
deepening gloom of night a second before the sound of a massive
explosion rolls over them.

“What was that?” Jiron exclaims as they get
to their feet.

James felt the distinctive tingle of magic
being performed briefly with the light of the explosion. “Magic,”
he says.

“Should I check it out?” Jiron asks. “It
couldn’t have been more than a mile or two away.”

“It might be a trap to draw you out,”
cautions Jared.

Shaking his head, James says, “I don’t think
so.” To Jiron he nods. “Go find out what it was but be
careful.”

“Right.” Quickly saddling his horse, it
doesn’t take him long before he’s mounted and ready to go. He
glances to Jared and asks, “Do you have a candle?”

“A couple, why?” he replies.

“Keep one burning so I can find my way back,”
he explains.

“Okay,” he says.

James comes to Jiron and says, “Find out and
come right back.”

Jiron smiles and replies, “You worry too
much.” Kicking his horse in the flanks, he bolts from the
oasis.

Where the explosion occurred is easily found,
torches and lanterns light the scene. The area of destruction looks
to have been where a caravan had pulled off the road and camped for
the night. Destroyed wagons, dead horses and damaged goods are
strewn all over. Dozens of bodies are being gathered by those still
alive.

He slows down and stops before he enters the
light. Watching from the darkness, he tries to understand just what
happened. Then all of a sudden he sees a robed mage appear from
around one of the few wagons left untouched. The mage’s robe is in
tatters and stained with blood. Limping and holding one arm close,
it appears as if he’s in a lot of pain.

That’s when he realizes many of the bodies
lying across the ground are robed mages.
What the hell
happened?
Unable to understand the language, he watches for
several more minutes as the survivors scurry around, see to the
wounded and stack the dead off to the side.

Other than that one mage, it looks as if all
the others were killed in the explosion. Whatever the reason, at
least there are now less to deal with when they go for the library.
Finally deciding he’s seen all there is to see, he turns his horse
back to the desert and hurriedly returns to the others.

Jared’s candle is a beacon in the night and
he has little trouble in finding his way back. When he arrives, he
tells the others what he saw. “It makes no sense,” he states.
“Could there be another mage out there who’s fighting them?”

James shakes his head as a grim expression
spreads across his face. “I don’t think so,” he replies. “You said
there was a caravan there?”

“That’s right. Mages and wagons…” he begins
then suddenly understanding comes. “The wagons!”

Nodding, James says, “The wagons. One must
have been doing magic and got too close.”

“What does wagons have to do with it?” Jared
asks.

Never having explained to him what he had
done and not wanting to now, James says, “It’s complicated and I
don’t want to get into it right now.”

Jared glances from Jiron to James knowing
he’s the only one who doesn’t know what’s going on. A little hurt
at not being trusted, he keeps silent.

“Must have been on their way to strike at
you,” suggests Jiron.

“I would think so,” agrees James with a nod.
“How many were there?”

“I saw over a dozen lying dead on the
ground,” he tells him. “One survived but he was in bad shape.”

James sits and considers all that Jiron has
told him. The idea with the wagons is working better than he had
anticipated. Only the unexpectedness of the attack could explain
the death of the mages. Had they had any warning at all, there
would have been fewer killed.

“Blow out the candle and let’s get some
sleep,” he says to Jared.

“Don’t you want to get out of here?” Jared
asks.

Shaking his head, James says, “No. We need
the rest and I don’t like the idea of wandering around this close
to enemies in the dark unless I have too. We’ll keep a watch and
make an early start.”

Jiron takes the first watch. As James settles
into his blankets, he hears the soft tread of Jiron as he moves
around the camp. Settling down into his blanket, he tries to relax
and eventually falls asleep.

In a room adjacent to the Great Hall, several
mages stand around a circular table with a mirrored surface. The
master in control of the Table of Sight directs the image as he
scans the wreckage. Mages he has known for years, some for decades
lie dead. Two, Inyi included, were accounted among the most
powerful at the School. And for them to be so easily taken out
didn’t bode well.

The door to the room opens as the High Lord
Magus enters. Turning to face him, the master wilts slightly under
the burning glare of Kerith-Ayxt.

“Inyi’s gone my lord,” the master says with a
slight tremor in his voice.

Burning with barely controlled rage, the High
Lord Magus says in a voice deceptively calm, “Show me.”

Moving aside, the master makes room for
Kerith-Ayxt to view the image. As the master shows his lord the
faces of the dead he can feel the rage mounting in him. Finally
settling the image on the lone mage who survived the blast he says,
“Only Nyz survived.”

“Send riders to bring him back,” he orders.
As one of the other mages leaves the room to carry out his orders,
Kerith-Ayxt turns to the master in charge of the Table. “Find the
mage.”

The master licks his lips in nervousness as
he turns his full attention to the Table. Sending magic into the
Table, he hunts for the mage but to no avail. The image of the
Table shifts and ripples but fails to reveal anything. “I am unable
to milord,” the mage finally admits as he halts the search.

“Slaves are due here by noon,” Kerith-Ayxt
states. He turns to look at the mage and says, “When they are, use
them to find this mage.” The tone of his voice leaves little doubt
of his fate should the master fail.

“Yes, milord,” the master replies.

Kerith-Ayxt motions for another mage, one of
the Fourth Circle, to come close. “Have the First’s go in search of
the mage,” he says.

“Milord?” questions the Fourth.

“Have them comb the area to the south and
east by horse and foot until they find him,” he clarifies. “If they
should find this rogue mage, have them create a beacon that we can
home in on. Tell them not to attempt to take the mage on their own
but to wait for others. Once we know where exactly to look it
should be easy to keep an eye on him.”

“Yes milord,” the Fourth says as he quickly
leaves the room.

Turning back to the image of his dead mages,
the High Lord Magus seethes with rage.

Early the next morning when the sky is just
beginning to lighten with the coming of the dawn, they set out.
Same as the day before, they run parallel with the road while
maintaining a discreet distance.

Jiron rides point a hundred feet ahead of
James and Jared. The sun no sooner begins to crest the horizon
before he makes out the silhouette of a rider almost directly
ahead. The rider is sitting there staring in their direction. Jiron
comes to a stop and waits for the others to join him.

Indicating the rider he asks James, “What do
you make of that?”

Staring through the glare of the rising sun,
he sees the rider just sitting there. “I’m not sure,” he
replies.

“Could he be a scout?” suggests Jared.

“Seems a little young for that,” replies
Jiron.

“Probably a farm lad out and about early in
the morning,” decides James. “Pay him no attention.”

“Alright,” says Jiron as he gets his horse
moving.

They don’t travel very far before James feels
the tingling sensation of magic. “He’s a mage!” he exclaims. They
look and find the lad with arms raised and sitting still.

“What’s he doing?” Jiron asks.

“I’m not sure but we better find out,” he
replies. Kicking his horse into motion he races toward the boy with
the other two right behind. Seeing them charging forward, the lad
turns his horse and begins racing away.

They begin to gain on the boy when from the
west and north, other riders make an appearance as they angle
toward the fleeing rider. “Damn!” curses James. With their position
now known, it’s unlikely they’ll be able to make an attempt on the
School’s library.

More tingling is felt as the riders each
summon magic. “They’re all mages,” James tells the others. “We
better get out of here before more come.” Turning his horse, he
heads north.

“Are they from the School?” asks Jared as he
swings in to follow.

“Have to be. Since they couldn’t locate me by
magic, they sent riders out to find me,” he speculates.

“But they still aren’t going to be able to
track you though, right?” Jared asks nervously.

“They don’t need to track me specifically
now,” he explains. “They can simply watch the stretch of desert
that we are on and keep track of us that way.”

“So what do we do?” Jared replies.

“Wait for dark and try to lose the watchers
then,” he says, though with the riders keeping an eye on them that
will be hard to do. With Jiron again in the lead, they race north
through the desert, all thoughts of tackling the library gone.
Following behind them are five riders, each able to wield
magic.

“Finally!” exclaims Kerith-Ayxt as the beacon
comes to them. The master in charge of the Table soon has the
desert in view where the First indicated. They see the First
sitting there staring off across the desert. The master scrolls the
image and soon has three riders in view.

“That’s them milord,” the master says.

“Excellent,” breathes the High Lord Magus.
Staring at the three, he’s able to easily pick out the mage. To a
Mage of the Fourth standing there with him he says, “Gather the
Circles. We’re going to ride forth and take care of this mage once
and for all.”

“Yes, milord,” the Fourth says with a bow
then leaves the room.

To the master in charge of the Table he says,
“I shall leave you a couple Firsts and Seconds to aid you. When the
slaves come, you know what to do?”

“Yes milord,” the master says with a nod,
never taking his eyes off the mage’s party.

Kerith-Ayxt glances one last time at the
image of the riders riding hard before leaving to make ready to
ride. When he had been selected to be the High Lord Magus, he
thought his days of battle were behind him. Relishing the thought
of again being able to wield magic in battle he hurries from the
room.

The five riders continue to follow. For two
hours, James, Jiron and Jared have been fleeing northward and still
the five riders continue to pace them. Once they tried to turn and
confront them, but they simply ran away. Apparently they are only
there to keep them in sight.

At one point they stop to rest their horses
while James digs a shallow hole in the desert. Within the
depression, he places one of his pouches and opens it as wide as it
will go. Taking out one of their few remaining water bottles, he
pours the contents into the pouch.

“What is he doing?” Jared asks Jiron.

“He’s trying to figure out which is the best
way to go,” he says. “Without his mirror, he needs a flat
reflective surface to do it.”

Jared keeps an eye on the five riders behind
them who came to a stop when they did. He’s glad all they wish to
do is observe.

Once the water fills the pouch, James waits a
moment for the surface to stabilize then releases the magic. Aside
from the five riders behind them, there aren’t a whole lot of
others in the area. To the west lies a road running north and
south. All that’s on the road is a slave caravan heading south.