Light in the Barren Lands: Travail of The Dark Mage Book One (31 page)

James could hear the tub filling with water. From past experience, he realized that he and Jiron would be showering after they ate, for Jira loved to play in the tub, especially since her uncle showed her how to use the motel’s shampoo as bubble bath. Searching through the directory supplied by the motel, he found a local pizza shop and called.

Some miles away in the Las Vegas branch of the FBI, a phone rang. It was picked up by Agent Randle, a ten year veteran of the FBI, and one of a dozen assigned to the Task Force working to apprehend the terrorists who bombed the doctor’s office in Haveston. A tip from the Gaming Commission had led the Task Force to Vegas.

The terrorists had been videotaped in numerous casinos, and their actions were very suspect. Slot machines being fried, games being fixed, it all smelled to high heaven. Shortly after arriving, they located the motel where the terrorists had stayed and searched the room. What they found within the room gave them all cause to worry.

One wall blasted apart, possibly due to an accidental bomb detonation; an area of the rug torched; the motel manager saying how they paid in cash and demanded no one enter their room; the signs were all there that something major was about to go down. And now the terrorists were nowhere to be found.

The manager explained how he had received a call from one of the two men and was told a package was being shipped to the motel. When the package arrived, it was inspected carefully by the bomb squad. The contents confused the members of the Task Force. Why would terrorists have cocoa pods and a boxed assortment of chocolate confections delivered all the way from Hawaii? After repairing the package so as to appear unopened, they left it with the manager with instructions to notify them as soon as the terrorists returned.

“Agent Randle,” the FBI agent said as he answered the phone.

“They’ve returned.” The voice on the other end was unmistakably that of the motel manager.

“All three?”

“Yes. Two men and a girl, the same ones that were here earlier.”

“Okay. Men are on the way. Stay in the office. If they should come see you, do what they want and don’t arouse suspicion.”

“Yes, sir,” replied the manager nervously.

Agent Randle slammed the phone down and came to his feet. “That was the motel manager. They’re back. We roll in five minutes.”

Less than a block away from the motel in which James was even now ordering pizza, another cell phone rang. A man looked at the display and saw,
“Room 14. You have five minutes.”

Springing to his feet, the man knocked a half empty bottle of Jack Daniels off the bed in his rush to get out of the room. He had five minutes before the feds arrived. Grabbing his gun from off the table, he shoved it into his belt as he opened the door.

Seconds later, the engine of an old pickup roared to life.

“What are you going to do when you get home?”

Relaxing on the bed while he waited for the pizza to arrive, James considered the question. “First, make sure Meliana and Kenny are okay. Then find out who it was that attacked, but more importantly, those that were behind it.”

“My money’s on Lord Cytok.”

“Perhaps.”

“What do you think?”

Before James could answer, a knock broke the stillness. He glanced toward the door. “Couldn’t be the pizza guy. It’s only been a few minutes.”

“Maybe the innkeeper?” suggested Jiron.

“If it is, we’ll have a lot of explaining to do.” Coming off the bed, James made his way to the door. Still several feet away, he froze.
What if it were the cops?
Moving to the window, he surreptitiously peered through the curtain to the parking lot beyond. No cop cars were in sight, nor were there any great increase in the number of vehicles that might indicate undercover detectives or some such. Relaxing, James continued to the door, turned the deadbolt, then opened it.

He only had a moment to see the man on the other side before doubling over in pain from a fist burying itself in his stomach.

“James!” shouted Jiron as he rolled off the bed and grabbed his knives. Coming to his friend’s aid, he leaped over the bed toward the attacker and was met by twin metal prongs with wires attached fired from a Taser. Instantly, his muscles refused his commands and he crashed to the floor like a rag doll. He lay there twitching as the man kneed James in the face causing him to flip backward and land on the floor. Then Jiron saw a glint of metal in the man’s other hand with which he stabbed into James’ arm.

The man ripped the two metal prongs from him and his muscles were released from the spell the man had placed upon them. Weak to the point of helplessness, Jiron could only watch as the man quickly gathered the metal prongs and their wires, shoved them in his shirt, then picked James up off the floor. James’ head lolled to the side and Jiron could see the vacant look in his friend’s eyes.
Drugged!

Their eyes met, Jiron’s and the man’s. Gazes locked for only a brief moment, the man then put James over his shoulder, turned and headed for the door. The attack had taken little more than a minute. As he left the room, Jiron heard his daughter emerge from the bathroom.

“Father…” she began but Jiron shook his head feebly and raised a hand.

“U-u-uncle,” he managed to get out then pointed toward the door.

Wet clothes adhering tightly to her skin, she knelt by her father. “Someone took Uncle James?”

Again he nodded. His muscles were growing more responsive, but not quickly enough. “Help…him.”

Jira looked at her father in surprise. “You want
me
to go after him?”

He nodded. “Hurry.” Outside, they heard the roar of the truck’s engine. “Go!”

Barefoot and clothes soaked from having put them on without drying off first, such was the haste with which she had taken after hearing her father’s earlier cry, she bolted for the door. The truck started to move and she leapt toward the tailgate and sailed over into the bed as the truck pulled away. Her uncle had been placed in the cab with the man.

Afraid to be discovered, she quickly moved against the back of the cab and hunkered down out of sight. She watched the motel recede as the truck pulled away, and was afraid. Her father incapacitated. Uncle James captured. And now it was all up to a five year old girl to set it right. How she wished her mother could be with her right now!

As the truck turned down a side street, the motel disappeared from view.

Pulling himself up to the window of the motel room, Jiron watched the truck bearing his daughter and friend disappear from sight. It had been a hard decision to send his daughter to help James, and one he’ll probably catch he’d for when Aleya finds out. Truth be known, had he a moment more to consider, his decision may have been different.

But it had been the most logical thing to do. For her to remain there with her father while the only person who understood this crazy world was being hauled away, this would assuredly have meant their quick capture. What would they have done then? Especially if James was killed? No, sending her after her uncle had been the best tactical decision he could have made. At least now there was a possibility that she would be able to affect a rescue. And with James free, he could get her home.

What was he to do now? Get out of the motel room for sure. If that man had known they were there, so must others. Grabbing his knives, he strapped them around his chest so he would be less noticeable, then put on the denim jacket that James had bought for him at the Salvation Army store. He also retrieved some of the cash James had stashed away in his pack and stuffed it in his pocket.

Staggering a little as he moved to the door, he paused once more at the window and peered out the corner. Six black cars now sat parallel to the front of their motel room. Beyond were another four cop cars with more parked along the street. Men were quickly getting into position behind the cars.

He could see that each man bore weapons of a kind he had never seen before, but that James had described on numerous occasions. Some weapons were long, others short, but if what James said was correct, they shot bolts that would cause similar damage as one of James’ magic propelled, slugs. Not just one bolt as a crossbow, but many; each “gun” firing the equivalent to a score of archers. A quick count told him out the front was not the way to go.

Then from outside boomed a voice louder than any Jiron had ever before heard. He left the window and ran to the bathroom where there was located another window looking out onto the back parking lot. Barely large enough for him to squeeze through, it was much preferable than trying to fight his way out the front.

Half the window slid to the side to allow the inflow of fresh air, a screen covered the opening. Jiron looked to see if there was anyone in the rear parking lot. Surprisingly, the enemy forces appeared concentrated solely out front.

An elbow jab to the screen knocked it free. Then he quickly scrambled through to the other side. Alighting on the ground, he heard a man shout. At the corner of the building some fifty feet away stood a police officer. Another emerged around the corner to his left.

The officer held a gun pointed in his direction and shouted a single word command. Despite the lack of understanding, Jiron knew the man was ordering him to stay where he was. He almost laughed.

Before him was the back parking lot with a stone fence separating the inn’s lot with that of another inn. In a flurry of motion, Jiron sprinted for the wall.

Two shots rang out, neither bullet found their mark.

Picking up speed, Jiron angled toward a small, green hatchback. Upon reaching the car, he leapt. One foot hit the hood, the second landed upon the roof. Then another step and he leapt for the wall.

More shots were fired. One shattered the front windshield of the hatchback, another hit the wall. As plaster erupted, Jiron’s leap carried him to the top of the wall. Catching it with both hands, he vaulted himself over to the other side where he landed in such a way as to make any gymnast proud.

People in the parking lot looked on in curiosity as he took off. Then when a helicopter appeared overhead, and cops began crossing the wall in pursuit, they scattered.

He made for the neighboring inn. A tall structure with a ground floor that rambled over quite an area, it would hopefully afford him ample places to lose his pursuers.

When shots again began to be fired, he started zigzagging in the hopes of eluding the bolts being fired at him. Sirens filled the air as more cop cars raced into the inn’s parking lot.

A group of young adults were just emerging through the doors when Jiron reached the entrance. Knocking one to the ground and causing two others to stumble aside, he tore through their midst and into the inn.

He paused only a moment before taking off through the lobby. Patrons looked at him in startled shock at his quick passage, unaware of the greater drama unfolding just outside. He saw the door bearing a plaque depicting stairs and altered course toward it.

By this time, cops and FBI agents were streaming in through the front doors in pursuit.

Jiron smashed through the door and hit the stairs to the floor above at a run. Taking the steps two at a time, he reached the second floor in a matter of seconds where he paused for only a moment. Deciding to continue up to the third floor, he resumed his ascent.

From below came the sound of his pursuers as they entered the stairwell and raced up the steps after him.

Upon reaching the third floor, he left the stairwell and entered the deserted hallway beyond. Closed doors lined both sides in either direction. Turning left, he raced down the hallway until he came to where it jogged to the right. Following the hallway to the right, he went down half its length. Then picking a door his best guess said would overlook the backside of the inn, he kicked it open.

A man sitting at the table with many papers laid out before him stood up as Jiron entered. He shouted something but Jiron paid him no heed. When the man realized Jiron was coming for him, fear leapt to his face and he tried to back away. But Jiron was too quick.

One fist to the man’s middle followed by another to the side of the head dropped the man like a sack of potatoes. Immediately, Jiron returned to the door. His less than appropriate opening method had busted the doorjamb and the door would not remain closed. Though once he pulled the dresser before it and stacked the table on top, the door was secured.

Ignoring the groans of the man on the floor, Jiron went to the window and thankfully saw that his guess had not been in error. The room did in fact overlook the inn’s rear parking lot. A few cop cars could be seen below, but they appeared deserted as their operators most likely had joined the pursuit on foot.

Being too high to safely leap to the ground, Jiron instead turned to the bed and ripped the covers off. As he began tying the sheets together in a makeshift rope, the sound of men running down the hallway outside his door could be heard. When the first sheet had been secured to the second, and he was beginning on the third, there came a knock on the door.

A voice hollered something, a question by its tone and inflection. Jiron turned his gaze to the man on the floor. Eyes gazed at him from a blood-spattered face. He could tell the man considered shouting. Jiron gave the man a look foretelling impending doom if he should alert those out in the hall. The man remained silent.

Once the third sheet was attached to the first two, he figured it to be long enough to get him close to the ground. Tying one end around a chair leg, he moved the chair against the wall beneath the window. Then, once his makeshift rope was properly coiled atop the chair for easy release, he took another of the chairs and threw it through the window.

The resultant crash was heard by those out in the hallway. Immediately, men started shouting and the door began to be assaulted with blows from the other side. Outside, the chair and shards of glass sailed through the air only to land with a crash upon a car far below.

A few seconds to clear the remaining glass from the window and sill, Jiron then tossed the rope out and passed through the window. Before his head dropped out of sight, he saw the man lying on the floor get up and move to clear away the obstacles from in front of the door. All the while, the man was shouting to those out in the hall.