Tides of Faith: Travail of The Dark Mage Book Two (5 page)

“I cautioned him about keeping on the
lookout for spies,” Miko assured.

“Still, he hasn’t been the
same since we rescued him from
Ith-Zirul.”
Ith-Zirul, the one-time High Temple of Dmon-Li was now but a
memory. After Tinok had been captured and taken there, James,
Jiron, and a band of rescuers affected his freedom, and in the
process destroyed the majority of the evil god’s priesthood, as
well as preventing the god from crossing over which would have
effectively destroyed the world.

“He changed long before that.” Taking
a roll, Jiron slathered it with a healthy portion of butter. “It
was Cassie’s death that did it. Sort of went crazy there for a
time.” Taking a bite, he savored the fresh baked goodness that held
just a hint of nuttiness.

“Do not worry, I have someone keeping
an eye on him.”

Jiron turned to Miko. “Do you think
that wise? If he finds your man trailing him, things could get
ugly.”

“There is risk in all things. Let me
worry about my people.”

Shrugging, Jiron shoved the remainder
of the roll into his mouth and reached for another.

“Father, when can we leave to see
mother?”

He cast a look into his daughter’s
anxious eyes. “Soon.”

James chuckled. “If you keep eating
like that, probably in a couple days.”

Perking up, she flashed her uncle an
expectant look. “Really?”

“Well, we’re not going to leave until
we are certain the journey won’t do him any harm.” He flashed her a
grin. “Can’t have him falling off his horse or anything like
that.”

Amused at the image of her father
taking a tumble, she giggled.

The day passed in slow tedium. Being
relegated to a single room gave them little to do. They dared not
roam the Temple for fear of being recognized. Jiron slept, and Jira
played countless games of Bones and Daggers with Kip. Miko stopped
in from time to time, but Temple business demanded his attention
and kept his visits brief. James, impatient with inaction,
paced.

He liked the fact his magic was back
to normal, every hour or so he created his orb just for the
familiar feel of doing so. One of his fears after returning from
Earth had been whether or not his ability for magic would be
affected by his time back home. Since having to acclimatize to
Earth’s magical resonance, he feared to have to re-acclimatize to
this one. But as it turned out, magic came readily.

By the time Kip was sent to fetch
dinner, Tinok had failed to show. Jiron had regained some of his
strength, though he remained unable to rise if Jira was atop him.
He had hoped to have been able to speak with his friend.

Miko returned with Kip and Father
Keller to join them for their evening meal. “No sign of
Tinok.”

Frowning, Jiron turned toward Miko.
“When you talked with him, did he say he would return?”

“No. He merely left the
room.”

James glanced his way. “Do you think
he’s up to something?”

Jiron shrugged. “I don’t know. I was
certain he would have returned by now.”

The meal was heartier than the day
before, testament to Miko’s belief that they were improving. Slabs
of beef, three loaves of bread, an abundant array of fresh
vegetables, and of course two dozen tarts, rounded out the
meal.

“Maybe we should go check on him,”
James suggested. In actuality, he wanted out of the room more than
any belief that Tinok needed to be tracked down.

Miko cocked an eye at him. “Would that
be wise?”

“Probably not, but we should
see.”

“I will send Father Tullin to the Pits
tonight. He is known there and his presence would not arouse
suspicion.”

Getting a quizzical look, James asked,
“A priest hangs out at the Pits?”

“He ‘ministers’ to them.” Miko
couldn’t help but crack a grin.

“He does, huh?” James wasn’t
convinced. He knew somewhat of Miko’s burgeoning intelligence
network, and knew also that many nefarious characters as well as
nobility incognito, could be found rubbing elbows at Scar and
Potbelly’s less than reputable enterprise. It was far from uncommon
for most of the spectators of the Death Matches to be masked, for
such contests had been deemed vile and against the law.

“Absolutely. In fact, I have three
Brothers that were once participants.”

James shook his head. “Your priests
don’t exactly fit the norm as holy men go.”

Laughing, Miko nodded. “You are not
the first to make that observation, and probably will not be the
last.”

A knock forestalled any further
conversation. Kip hopped up and rushed over. Opening the door a
crack, he peered through then stepped aside to allow Father Vickor
to enter.

When James saw him, he couldn’t help
but wonder if any of Miko’s priests wore raiment fitting their
station. He had known Father Vickor since his wedding before the
Temple had been restored. Scary is what comes to mind when one
looks at the one time street brawler. Dressed in worn, brown
leathers with a mace swinging at his hip, the priest gave off the
presence of one ready to snatch the head off of anyone who crossed
him. Miko had seen something in him, and thus far, that trust had
not proven in error.

Coming to a stop six paces within the
room, Father Vickor said, “Reverend Father, Lord Pytherian wishes
an audience.”

James cast Miko a worried glance. Lord
Pytherian was a prominent figure in Madoc politics. Highest ranking
general, he held the charge for maintaining Madoc’s military and
security. He had been instrumental in holding the Alliance together
during the Madoc/Empire war five years ago.

“Is he at the Temple?”

Father Vickor shook his head. “He has
requested for you to meet with him at the Keep.”

Silent for several seconds, Miko
nodded. “Tell his man that I will attend him shortly.”

Nodding, Father Vickor turned on his
heels and left the room. Kip closed the door and returned to his
place at the table.

“Do you think he knows?”

Miko turned to James. “We shall see.”
After finishing what remained upon his plate, Miko grabbed two
tarts and came to his feet. Kip dashed to open the door for his
spiritual superior.

One tart was gone before he reached
the door, and the other was in the process of vanishing as he
passed through.

James watched his friend leave, hoping
the summons did not foreshadow forthcoming
complications.

Miko made his way through the Temple.
Along with Father Vickor, he picked up five of the more martially
inclined Brothers to accompany him. The group passed from the
Temple and made its way through the streets toward the towering
Keep in the distance.

They looked nothing like holy men,
more like a bunch of ne’er-do-wells searching for trouble. Upon
reaching the main gate in the curtain wall surrounding the Keep,
the guard on duty recognized Miko, snapped to attention, and
allowed them to pass without a word. Over the years, he had been a
frequent visitor of Lord Pytherian’s and most of the guard knew him
by sight.

Beyond the gate stretched the Keep’s
courtyard. A few people were about as the hour was not that late;
soldiers, civilians, and several wagons belonging to merchants
returning from dropping off supplies.

Miko spied a man emerge from the keep
and take position at the top of the steps. Even in the dim light of
evening he could readily tell it to be Henri, aide-de-camp to Lord
Pytherian, a good soldier and steadfast in his loyalty lord and
country. He saw them approach and descended the steps.

“His Lordship appreciates your coming
so quickly, Reverend Father.”

Miko nodded. “What is going
on?”

Henri turned back toward the Keep. “It
would be best if you heard it from His Lordship.”

They proceeded across the remainder of
the courtyard and entered the Keep. Henri led them to one of the
smaller meeting rooms, those that Lord Pytherian preferred during
more informal gatherings.

Coming to a stop before the door,
Henri opened it and stood back to allow Miko first entry. Lord
Pytherian was already there.

“Miko!” he said, coming to his
feet.

Miko relaxed, for so informal a
greeting had to mean less than dire news awaited. He nodded toward
Madoc’s most powerful general, “My lord.”

The general gestured to the chair
across from his own. “Please, have a seat.”

Sitting, Miko asked, “How may the
Temple be of service?”

Father Vickor and the other five
priests positioned themselves behind their superior.

Lord Pytherian offered his guest a
glass of wine, but was declined. He sat.

“Let me get straight to the heart of
it. Word has reached the Patriarchal Council that The Dark Mage was
attacked, his island destroyed, and he himself killed.” He paused
to see what effect his words were having, but his guests’ faces
told him little. “It is the belief among the Council that the
attack was perpetrated by the Empire in prelude to another
war.”

Miko digested that in quiet
contemplation. “I heard about the incident at James’ island, and as
far as I can gather the attack did happen. I believe, however, the
rumors concerning his death may be a bit premature. It would take
quite a sizeable force to overcome him, a force the Empire in its
current fractured and squabbling state would be unable to
field.”

Lord Pytherian nodded. “That was my
belief as well. However, an event transpired earlier today that
casts doubt upon that assumption. Four men were found slaughtered
in the Merchant’s Quarter. Three were obviously of Empire stock
while the fourth was one of ours, a man well known for his
involvement in the seedier side of life.”

“I fail to see how the two events are
related.” Miko could see there was more of the story yet to be
told.

“One of the men was a
priest of Dmon-Li, or at the very least, an agent. He bore their
mark.” The mark to which he referred was that of
three dots forming the points of a triangle with
lines running between them yet not touching. Miko and James had
plenty of experience with men bearing such, usually bad
ones.

“That does bode ill.”

“And, they had been killed with
knives.”

“Knives?”

Lord Pytherian nodded. “Knives very
similar to what The Dark Mage’s friend, Jiron, utilizes.” He
searched Miko’s eyes, but again discovered little.

“Jiron departed with his family for
the island weeks ago to take part in James’ son’s birthday
celebration. He would not have had time to return and kill these
men.”

“You are certain of this?”

“Quite. It is also worthy to note that
had these men’s identities been uncovered, any number of citizens
would not have hesitated in taking their lives. Many lost loved
ones and had lives torn asunder during the enemy’s
occupation.”

“We have not discounted such a
possibility, merely trying to ascertain the potential threat behind
the men’s presence within our city.”

Miko could tell there was more to the
attack that was being left unsaid, what exactly that may be
remained elusive. “Was there anything else?”

Lord Pytherian nodded. “You haven’t
heard from James, have you? If there would be one person to whom he
would turn in a time of trouble, it would be you.”

“He has not contacted me for help, or
in any way made his situation known.” Which was true, Miko had been
the one to initiate contact when he found them floundering in the
ether between worlds.

“Will you let me know the instant you
hear from him?”

“As soon as he contacts me, you will
be notified.” That seemed to placate the general. “And, should
further information come to light about the four men killed, I will
pass it on.”

“I would appreciate that,” he replied,
then came to his feet signaling the meeting to be at an
end.

Miko rose, his priests followed
suit.

“I and the Council appreciate your
time, Reverend Father. Thank you again for coming.

“It was my pleasure, my
lord.”

Coming around the desk, the general
crossed to the door and knocked. From the other side, Henri opened
the door and stood at attention as the visitors
departed.

“Have a good evening, Reverend
Father.”

“And you as well, General.”

Henri escorted them back to the
courtyard outside and left them at the gate.

Once he and his priests had passed
beyond sight of the curtain wall, Father Vickor asked, “What do you
make of that?”

“I fear Tinok’s failure to appear and
the four men’s death may be related.”

“That would make sense. If agents for
those responsible for the attack on The Dark Mage’s island had been
following him, he would assuredly have killed them had he
discovered them.”