Tides of Faith: Travail of The Dark Mage Book Two (48 page)

Miko kept sword at the
ready. Fear that the man would harm the babe stayed his
hand.

“I do,” he
replied.

Keeping sword at the
ready, Miko cast quick, tentative glances over to where the young
man continued tussling with the other two hooded
figures.

“Then save
her.”

Taking the babe by the
arm, the hooded man flung her toward an open window. The child
screamed mightily as she arched end over end through the
air.

Miko took two steps then
leapt, catching the babe before she could pass through the opening.
He then twisted and landed upon his back.

The child immediately
calmed.

“Noooo!” screamed the
young man as he vanished through the back door in the grip of the
hooded men.

Torn between going after
the young man, or staying with the child in his arms, he finally
set down the babe and raced to the doorway through which the hooded
figures had gone. The child’s screams once again rose to a fevered
pitch.

Miko reached the doorway
only to find the hooded men and the young man gone. He glanced back
at the squalling babe and for a second, indecision as to the best
course of action held him at the doorway. But then the babe’s cries
grew shriller still and he hurried back to her. As soon as he
picked her up and nestled her close to his breast, she
quieted.

“It will be fine,” he
whispered.

She smiled; then cooed
happily.

The babe couldn’t have
been more than six months old and had the beginnings of brown locks
that curled ever so gently. Her big eyes stared into his. They were
not the normal blue that most babes had upon entering the world. In
fact, they didn’t even match; brown for the right and hazel for the
left.

A quick check revealed she
suffered no injuries, not even a bruise.

“Who was that young man?”
Miko said as he walked toward the front of the house. “Your father?
Brother perhaps? And who were those men?”

She took his finger and
squeezed it tight.

Miko smiled at her and she
smiled back.

A mighty clap of thunder
shook the walls. The babe reacted not at all.

Miko rushed to the
doorway. Tendril of darkness spiraled out of the black cloud-mass
filling the sky. People screamed and raced to and fro. The world
flashed brightly as lightning shattered a fountain just
outside.

Blinded and thrown
backward several feet by the following thunderous concussion wave,
Miko lost his balance. He clutched the babe to him tightly as he
hit the floor.

A second blast rolled over
them before he could regain his feet. A third sought to lay him
down yet again, and a fourth left his ears ringing. When his eyes
could make out more than a blur, he saw rubble where the wall
facing the street had once stood.

Thunder echoed throughout
the city. It’s booming drowned out all sound, so quickly did one
follow after another.

“The temple,” he shouted.
“We have to get to the temple!”

Gale force winds whipped
him as he struggled through the rubble. Down the street, priests
stood arrayed along the temple’s outer walls. Magic flowed as they
sought to shield Morcyth’s temple from the storm’s ferocious
onslaught.

Each step was a battle;
gusts of terrible might slammed into him forcing him back almost
two steps for every three he took. He came abreast of Asran’s small
temple. Dozens of priests called upon their god’s power. Guiding
their efforts, Asran’s high priest wielded a staff of yew. Tendrils
of green sprouted from every stone of the temple. They wove an
intricate shield that quickly grew to cover the entire
building.

Miko met the high Priest’s
gaze just as the first blast of lightning slammed into the temple.
The blast knocked him to the ground.

Zzzzzt! Zzzzzt!
Zzzzzt!Zzzzzt!Zzzzzt!

Green tendrils turned
black; five priests fell unconscious beneath a deadly series of
strikes.

The walls shuddered as
wind whipped into them.

Zzzzzt! Zzzzzt!

Priests fell and cracks
formed.

Miko clutched the babe
protectively as another lightning blitz struck.

More priests hit the
ground; protective vines withered and died, then a blast of
blinding white struck the tip of the high priest’s
staff.

Searing light blinded him
as the thunderous concussive wave lifted him off the ground and
slammed him into a wall twenty feet away. Somehow he kept hold of
the babe. It took several precious moments before his eyes could
once again focus on the world around him. First the sight of the
baby girl smiling up at him; then what was left the Asran’s
temple.

Bodies, some broken,
others charred, lay scattered amidst the rubble. The temple was
utterly destroyed. Of the high priest there was no sign, only a
charred pit where he had stood.

Zzzzzt!

The roiling darkness above
continued raining arcs of destruction into the City of Light.
Between the clashes of thunder other buildings could be heard
collapsing.

“Come on, little girl,”
Miko said as he got to his feet, “we need to get you to safety.”
Then with prayers to Morcyth, he ventured from the relative safety
of the wall and headed back to the temple.

The wind, if anything,
blew all the harder. Headway was nigh-on impossible but he fought
for every inch. Up ahead he saw Father Vickor standing upon the
steps before the great doors to the temple. Morcyth’s glow
surrounded him as well as the priests arrayed behind
him.

Zzzzzt!

Lightning struck the
shield protecting the temple.

Zzzzzt!

And again…and
again.

Miko summoned Morcyth’s
power to him and progress against the wind improved.

The lightning was
unrelenting as it struck the temple. Priests,
his
priests and friends fell beneath
the onslaught.

Father Vickor stood with
mace in hand looking for all the world like the street brawler he
had been before donning holy vestments and vowing to do naught but
good. He had been among the first to be called to Morcyth and one
Miko depended on most. Alternating between shouting obscenities at
the sky and prayers to Morcyth, he sought through sheer grit and
strength of will to hold back the storm.

Zzzzzt! Zzzzzt!

Lightning
struck.

“Morcyth protect…,” the
rest was lost in the wind.

Zzzzzt!

“You
devil-son-of-a…”

Three blasts in quick
succession rocked the shield and for a moment, it wavered. A fourth
strike made it through and blasted away a section of the front
façade. Miko prayed for Morcyth to strengthen it and before the
fifth hit, it again grew strong.

As if angered by the
temerity of these priests, the storm redoubled its effort and hit
with a massive wave of strikes. One after another they slammed into
the protective shield; Miko was again blinded and knocked to the
ground.

He laid there curled
around the babe calling upon Morcyth to protect them, to protect
the temple. Still the strikes continued. Each sent a wave of force
that felt like someone had kicked him. Unable to rise, unable to do
naught but lay there until it was over, he formed a protective
shield around himself and the babe to ride it out.

Then there was silence. It
lasted a moment, then another.

Opening his eyes he saw
Father Vickor standing alone amidst the fallen priests. Behind him
the temple remained standing.

Father Vickor turned to
Miko with a sad expression.

“It’s over.”

About to reply, Miko
watched his friend pitch forward lifelessly. Cracks formed and
spider-webbed their way across the temple’s stone
façade.

“No!” he cried and lurched
to his feet.

He called for the power of
Morcyth but the glow failed to appear. Fear rose as he searched the
many places within him where he had always found his god. But each
place was empty.

Sections of stone broke
off and fell away to crash mightily against the ground.

“Morcyth!”

Imploding upon itself, the
once grand temple vanished in a massive clamorous cloud of dust and
debris.

“Reverend Father?”

Awakening in a cold sweat, Miko saw
Father Keller kneeling next to his bedroll; off to their right
walked Father Vickor with Kip and Jira in tow.

“What…?”

“The Dark Mage says it is time we were
underway.”

Scar and Potbelly were securing their
gear on the pack horses, James stood with Jiron away from the camp
deep in conversation.

Father Keller gave him a worried look.
“Are you all right, Reverend Father?”

Miko sought Morcyth and found him.
Holding up his hand, he brought forth the glow. Then he nodded.
“Yes. Let us make ready.”

Already the details of the
dream were fading away as dreams always do. They faded still
further as he collected his belongings and mounted his horse. As
they rode for Gyr, a shudder went through him as Father Keller’s
words echoed yet again:
It’s
over
.

Two hours later they encountered the
smell of death and decay. Brought in on a southerly breeze, it had
to have originated somewhere near Gyr.

“Gah,” Potbelly exclaimed, then put a
cloth over his nose and mouth to ward off the fetid odor. “Haven’t
smelled anything this bad since the war.”

“What is it, father?”

Jiron glanced to his daughter. She had
the collar of her shirt up over her nose though he could tell that
had little effect.

“Probably an animal died,” he assured
her. “Remember that dog we found in the alley by our
house?”

She nodded, then smiled. “Mother had
thought it was you.”

Jiron laughed. “I’m bad at times,
Jira; but that smell curled my toe hairs.”

Scar and Potbelly nudged their horses
to a quicker pace and rode ahead, uncertain that the odor would be
as innocent as that. They’d smelled a dead dog before and it hadn’t
been nearly this overpowering; a field of fallen soldiers that
hadn’t been seen to properly, maybe; but a dog? They wouldn’t
believe that unless he saw it for himself.

They came to a stop upon spying dark
forms lying in a field up ahead. “I think we found the source of
the odor,” Scar observed.

Potbelly nodded. “Too big to be
people.”

They advanced cautiously and found the
dark forms to be cows. Hundreds lay scattered across several acres.
Scar had them wait for James. He pointed to the dead animals when
the others caught up.

“Should we investigate?”

James thought a moment, then shook his
head. “No. This close to Gyr, I’m sure we’ll hear all about it when
we get there.”

“As you wish.”

Taking the lead again, the pair of Pit
Masters continued along the road.

Some of the fallen herd lay fairly
close to the road. The beasts looked to have been fat and healthy
before they died. How this had happened to them remained a mystery
for there were no indications as to what killed them. A few showed
signs of scavengers, but nothing that would have caused
death.

“Another enigmatic happening near the
town of Gyr.” Azhan came abreast of James. “Dark forces have been
at work here, Master.”

James silently eyed his apprentice a
moment, then asked, “Do you know something about this?”

Azhan shook his head. “No, Master. But
what else could have done such a thing?”

“Disease perhaps? Someone poisoned
them? Who knows?”

“Poisoned?” Azhan asked.

Shrugging, James replied, “Maybe. They
certainly did not die by sword or arrow.”

The air freshened once they left the
field of carcasses behind; and by the time the outlying homes of
Gyr came into view, a light drizzle had begun to fall. Shouting
could be heard coming from the village.

Scar rode ahead to see what was going
on while Potbelly waited for the others. He hadn’t gone much past
the first couple houses before turning around and hurrying back. By
this time the others had joined Potbelly.

“Something has the whole place in an
uproar,” he explained.

“Any idea what?” James
asked.

Shaking his head, Scar replied,
“Couldn’t get a clear view but from the mob of people, I’d guess
every resident in Gyr is involved.”

James scanned the sky for signs of the
shimmering field. Not seeing any, he indicated for Scar to lead the
way. “We still need to find that old woman. Keep our distance, we
don’t want to get drawn into whatever is going on.”