The Mists of Sorrow: The Morcyth Saga Book Seven (49 page)

Turning his attention to the other slaver,
Jiron knows he only has a moment before the man he kneed returns to
the fight. He strikes out at the first slaver’s head with a knife
which causes him to bring his sword up to block the blow, then
comes in with the other and opens a three inch cut along his
side.

Now bleeding, the slaver gives an
inarticulate cry and brings his sword in for a thrust at Jiron’s
midsection. Dancing to the side, Jiron deflects the attack and
brings his other knife in for a blow to the man’s neck. Unable to
avoid the blow, the slaver cries out as the blade rips into his the
left side of his neck, practically severing his head from his
torso. Falling to the ground, the slaver flops around a second
before becoming still.

Just then, the other slaver rejoins the
fight and strikes at him with an overhand hack which he barely
sidesteps in time. Backing up, Jiron readies another attack when he
finally takes notice of the barrier. Glancing outside of it, he
sees over two dozen slavers ringing them, about half having
crossbows. “Don’t worry about them,” he hears James say. “Finish
this guy then we’ll deal with the others.” Jiron gives him a nod
and advances on the remaining slaver.

With his partner lying on the ground dead,
the second slaver cries out as he launches into a series of blows
designed to bully his way through Jiron’s defenses. But Jiron has
seen many such attacks before, and by others more skilled than the
man before him. Moving his knives quickly and deftly, he deflects
the blows and waits for the opening he’s sure will appear.

He begins to deflect the man’s sword in a
pattern he’s used many times to create an opening. Each time the
sword comes at him, he deflects it in such a way that the man
becomes slightly more unbalanced. Until finally, the opening
appears and Jiron strikes out with a barely seen attack and sinks
his blade in the man’s chest.

Stepping backward, Jiron watches as the man
looks in confusion at the hilt sticking out of his chest. Then his
sword falls from his fingers as he drops to his knees and topples
over. Moving forward, Jiron reclaims his knife and wipes both
blades off on the man’s clothes. Standing up again, he looks around
once more at the ring of slavers surrounding them.

“What now?” he asks James. He can see the
bolts lying on the ground on the other side of the barrier from the
futile attempt to attack them.

With the threat from the two slavers within
the barrier nullified, James turns toward those on the outside.
“We’re leaving,” he tells them. To Jiron he says, “Follow me.”

Jiron nods and replies, “Lead on.”

Altering his course, James no longer moves
toward the gates, rather he heads to the back wall of the slaver
compound. One slaver gets in their way and threatens them with his
sword. Before the edge of the barrier reaches the man, James says,
“Move.”

The slaver either doesn’t understand or
ignores the command for he advances forward. Raising his sword to
strike, he’s suddenly struck by the barrier before he can complete
the maneuver. The unexpected blow knocks him off balance and he
hits the ground as James and Jiron continue on by.

“Look,” Jiron says as he points to the door
leading into the building wherein Buka met them. The Guildmaster
stands there in the doorway and glares at them as they move
closer.

“I see him,” replies James. When he draws
closer, James says to Buka, “We’re leaving. Anyone you send after
us will die.”

“You aren’t going to get away with this,”
the Guildmaster states, the implied threat quite apparent.

“Better men than you have tried to kill us,”
Jiron tells him, “yet here we are.”

Buka didn’t get to be Guildmaster by being
stupid or acting foolishly. Having seen the bolts being deflected
by the barrier and the subsequent knocking aside of the slaver, he
knows there’s nothing he can do to prevent them from leaving.
Signaling for his men to back off, they keep a good distance
between themselves and the two men protected by the barrier.

James continues moving forward toward the
wall. Beside him, Jiron keeps an eye on those following along
behind them as they approach the wall. “They’re still following,”
he says.

“I know,” replies James. Coming to the wall,
James summons the magic and directs a blast toward it.

Bam!

The wall explodes outward and when the dust
clears, they find a ten foot section of the wall gone. James turns
back to the slavers and warns them again, “Follow me at your
peril.”

Stepping forward, James and Jiron carefully
make their way through the rubble. Once past, they continue in as
straight a direction to the edge of town as they can. Before
they’ve gone more than half a dozen yards from the hole in the
wall, three slavers rush through after them.

Crumph!

The ground under them explodes upward and
throws them into the air. When the men come back down and strike
the ground, they fail to move. “Any more?” James asks.

“Doesn’t look like it,” Jiron replies.

“Good,” nods James. Resuming their progress,
they continue away from the wall. As long as they have the wall in
sight, no more slavers attempt to make it through.

The coldness of the stone sucks the very
warmth from his body. Not for the first time has he questioned the
logic which made him leave his friends behind. At the time, all he
could think of was vengeance. Those that took his love away from
him had to be made to pay and he knew that as long as he continued
to travel with James, that was unlikely to happen.

For a long time, every day was torment for
him. Each morning a renewal of his loss and every evening a lonely
time spent mourning what no longer could be. At first he sought out
and executed ranking members of the Empire’s forces. His first
victim was some officer in a small town not too far from where he
left the others behind.

He had ridden into town, eyes red and
swollen from his grief. When he saw the officer appear out of a
doorway, his vision turned even redder. Not caring about who would
see him he leaped from his horse and approached the man. The
officer noticed his approach and turned to greet him, but instead
was only greeted by the point of one of Tinok’s knives. A quick
thrust and it was over, the officer never even had a chance to
defend himself. It was murder, pure and simple.

He bent over and carved a heart with two
dots upon the man’s forehead. To this day he still doesn’t know why
he did that, but ever since, it became his calling card. Whenever
he killed another of the Empire’s officers and nobles, a similar
design was carved into their foreheads as well.

The first year he spent as a loner, moving
from town to town, staying on the fringe of society. Not being able
to speak the language was a definite handicap at first. But after
awhile he began to pick up on it.

That’s when he began to hear rumors and
stories of a great mage who was wreaking havoc among the Empire’s
cities and citizens. Each time he heard the tale, the story would
grow. A grin would come to him, for he knew that his friends were
still alive. And better yet, hurting the Empire.

At the end of winter and before spring
began, he started accumulating people of like mind. First one, then
another learned of him and sought him out. Each wanting to work to
hurt the Empire. Some were common thugs and murderers who saw him
as a chance to strike back at the government that had hurt them so
bad. Others were more along the lines of those who wanted a change.
They were tired of the way the Emperor and his army controlled
everything. How the average person had little chance to improve
their lot and so forth.

So by the time summer came along, he had a
band following him numbering two score. He had thought that by this
time he would have been captured and killed. Only reason he can
think of why they didn’t spend more resources in trying to capture
him was that there was another they wanted more. James was playing
merry hell with them and they wanted him bad. What forces were sent
looking for him were either easily avoided or destroyed.

Then came the news that Black Hawk, infamous
leader of men that he was, had resurfaced. Not only that, but with
a band of men was actually pushing the Empire’s forces back. He
wouldn’t have credited the story except along with the news of
Black Hawk came the tale of how the mage had joined with him.

That was when he began to go after bigger
targets. Armories, workshops, things like that. No longer satisfied
with skirting the fringe and taking officers unawares, his force
began planning attacks and sowing dissent. Which only brought more
people to him. At one point his force numbered over three hundred
men.

But then came the day when he made his
mistake.

He was leading his band to a small town
where they planned to make a raid for supplies. Stealing food and
other necessities has been the way he kept his force supplied. What
money they may come across tends to be spent on other things, like
women.

The town was a nexus for local herders and
growers, those that were able to coax something to grow in this
type of climate. Earlier, he had sent a man ahead to scout the town
who returned with news that the storehouses were filled to
capacity. Needing food badly, he turned his force and headed
straight toward it. What he didn’t realize was that he was riding
into a trap.

Though he didn’t know it at the time, a
smart young officer had been put in charge of hunting him down. And
after several months of pursuit, this officer had learned his
habits well. So well in fact that he had the storehouses at this
town stocked, spread the word of the food stored here, and waited
in the hopes Tinok would take the bait. Which of course is exactly
what he did.

When his force rode in and began laying
siege to the town’s guards, soldiers boiled out of the neighboring
buildings. Out numbered, Tinok’s force was quickly decimated. Only
a handful managed to escape. One of those lucky few was Tinok
himself.

Now on the run with a much larger force hot
on their heels, they fled. Despite the cunning he had developed
during his time as a marauder, he was unsuccessful in losing them.
Then the inevitable happened, their horses became fatigued and were
unable to outrun their pursuers.

Tinok decided to make a last stand at an old
stone farmhouse they stumbled across. From the relative safety of
inside its stone walls, he and the four others who had made it that
far with him watched from the windows as the enemy soldiers
surrounded them.

The officer in charge gave them the
opportunity to give up peacefully, but that was something none of
them was willing to do. Replying in a less than humble attitude,
Tinok cast aspersions on the officer’s family tree and told him
what he could do with his offer of surrender.

On three sides of the farmhouse were windows
where they could keep an eye on what the enemy was doing. The
fourth was solid stone containing neither door nor window. He and
the others kept a constant vigil.

Tinok watched as the soldiers began massing
a large pile of wood a hundred feet from the front door. They
quickly had the pile of sticks and dried bushes stacked quite high.
An hour, maybe two passed after the pile was completed and the
enemy sat there and waited. Then, about the time it was growing
dark, four riders appeared with bulging satchels tied behind their
saddles.

When the riders stopped and began opening
the satchels and removing the contents, Tinok began to understand
what they were about to do. For inside the satchels were small
bladders that the Empire used in transporting lantern oil. He
looked on in growing fear as the pile of wood was lit.

Again, the officer in charge came to stand
before them and said for them to surrender or be burned out.

Tinok glanced at the others. They all
understood what was about to happen, and Tinok’s chest swells with
pride as his men to the man refused to surrender. Tinok shouted
defiantly out to the officer saying they would rather burn than
surrender. The officer replied that he is more than happy to
comply.

Before the onslaught of fire, the officer
positioned half a dozen crossbowmen outside of each window and
door. He knew that at some point they would have to come out. Once
they were in position, he called for the riders. They came with
torches and used the now flaming pile to light them. Other riders
came and were handed a single bladder of oil each. Then, the
onslaught began.

Three riders with bladders rode fast for the
farmhouse and threw the oil filled bladders at the windows. Tinok
and the others tried desperately to prevent the bladders from
coming through, but when they did, a flight of bolts flew through
the windows at them. One of his men cried out as a bolt struck him
in the neck. Two of the three bladders successfully made it through
and smashed open on the floor of the farmhouse.

Right behind the riders with the oil came
the riders with the torches. Just as the ones before them did, they
threw their burning brands through the window. Two of the torches
were successfully blocked, but one made it through and landed onto
the oil covered floor.

Whoosh!

The oil on the floor ignited and fire spread
across the floor just as another set of riders came with more
bladders of oil. Distracted by the burning oil within the
farmhouse, they were unable to prevent the others from coming
through. Two of the bladders broke open on impact, increasing the
already fierce fire burning across the floor. The third remained
intact upon impact. Sitting in the fire as it was, it didn’t take
long before it exploded.

The oil contained within the exploding
bladder flew in all directions. One of the men with Tinok was
unfortunate enough to be in close proximity to it. He screamed in
agony as the burning oil hit him and began to burn.