Trail of the Gods: The Morcyth Saga Book Four (34 page)

Vaulting up onto one, he turns it around and
sees James beset by three soldiers. A flare of light and one
soldier is thrown backward as the other two continue their advance.
James is beginning to look very tired.

Taking the reins of the other horse, he
kicks his into a gallop and rides directly at the men advancing
upon James. They fail to see him coming in time and he rides right
over them, bowling them over. “Get on!” he shouts at James as he
brings the horses to a stop next to him.

More soldiers are advancing upon them from
all directions as James gets into the saddle. A sound of turning
gears and the gates behind them begin to open as even more soldiers
start pouring through.

Once James is securely in the saddle, Jiron
kicks his horse into a gallop again and they race away from the
city into the night. Behind them, they see hundreds of soldiers
pouring out of the gates but quickly fall behind.

The road they find themselves on follows the
river as it flows on their left. After getting his bearings, he
realizes this is the same river they had followed on the way down
to Saragon. And up ahead of them is a large force of men and a
mage, perhaps even now waiting for them.

As they follow the road in the dark, James
can’t get the death of the slaves off his mind. A tear runs down
his cheek as his emotions begin getting to him.

“You okay?” asks Jiron after they’ve ridden
in silence for awhile.

“Just thinking of Derrion and the others
back there, sacrificing themselves so we could escape,” he says
sadly.

“I wouldn’t think of it that way,” replies
Jiron. “They were fighting for their freedom, whether in death or
in life. No man who has known freedom can long suffer slavery, they
are either broken spiritually and are no longer the men they once
were. Or they fight and die.”

James rides in silence as he thinks about
what Jiron had told him.

“How or why they came to aid us, we’ll never
know,” Jiron continues. “I would expect something like this has
been planned for some time, seeing as how they escaped their pens
so readily. You just gave them the excuse.” When James glances over
to him, he adds, “This was going to happen anyway, I expect. So
don’t take it so personally.”

Sighing, James says, “I suppose you’re
right.”

“Of course I am,” he insists. “If you take
personally the decisions of others, you’ll be carrying the weight
of an enormous amount of guilt. You didn’t ask them to fight and
die back there, they volunteered knowing full well what their fate
would be. I honor their choice to die as men, not slaves.”

Taking a deep breath, James gets his
emotions under control and replies, “Maybe Perrilin will make a
song about them?”

“Probably,” he agrees. “People like songs
about hopeless struggles for a good cause.”

“I’ll tell him all about it next time I see
him,” he says. He feels better having decided a course of action
with which he can honor their sacrifice.

“Now,” says Jiron, “we have to figure out
how to get back to Cardri.” Glancing to James he adds, “Providing
of course we’re going back to Cardri?”

“Yes,” replies James. “We’re going
home.”

“Good,” states Jiron. “By morning we should
be at that town up ahead with the bridge we passed on the way down.
Somehow, we need to cross it.”

“Let’s push a little harder so we can make
it before dawn,” suggests James. “Hopefully we can make it across
before it gets light.”

With that, they both increase their speed to
a gallop. Over the course of the next several hours, they alternate
speeds between a fast gallop and a trop for optimum speed while at
the same time saving their horses’ strength. They could well need
it when they get there.

An hour into their ride, Jiron asks, “How
far away can you sense magic?”

“I don’t know,” replies James, “half a mile
or so, maybe a mile. Why?”

“Oh, I was just thinking of that mage you
said you detected at the town north of the one we’re heading for,”
he explains. “I was worried he may have sensed what you did back at
Saragon.”

“I doubt it,” James assures him. “I didn’t
do anything very strong.”

“That’s a relief,” he says.

After several more hours of riding, the sky
to the east has begun to lighten with the approach of dawn, and
still the town has not appeared. Worried about not making it in
time, they increase their speed.

It isn’t until the sun crests the horizon
that the town finally appears before them in the distance. “Now
what?” James asks.

The town still has a garrison of soldiers, a
hundred or so from the looks of it. Two stand guard on the bridge,
dashing their hopes of easily making it across undetected.

“We could still try,” suggests Jiron. “If
you blew up the bridge after we crossed it, it wouldn’t matter
whether they discovered us or not. They would be unable to
follow.”

“True,” he says. “But something that big
would most likely alert whoever was up in Pleasant Meadows.”

“That’s over a day away,” counters Jiron.
“Whether he did or not would doubtless make a difference. We’d be
over in Cardri before whoever it is could get here to do anything
anyway.”

“Very well,” he agrees. “But I’m going to
need a moment close to the bridge to make it work.”

“I’ll give you that moment,” he tells
him.

As they approach the outskirts of town, they
slow to a normal pace so as not to draw attention to themselves.
Some of the soldiers begin to take notice of them coming up the
road but don’t seem to be too concerned. After all, they’re coming
from the south which is totally controlled by the Empire. And what
enemy in their right mind would casually ride up to a garrisoned
town in broad daylight.

As they near the first building, a soldier
hails them with a smile and a friendly wave. “Now!” says Jiron and
they kick their horses as they turn off the road. The soldier’s
smile quickly vanishes in confusion as he watches them begin racing
around the town toward the bridge. He yells something to them as
they race away and then raises a horn to his lips.

Rounding the last building before the open
space between the town and the bridge, they hear a horn sound
behind them. The guards on the bridge look their way and see them
riding fast toward them. They form up at the foot of the bridge and
one of them calls something to them, most likely a command to stop.
When they fail to heed his command, he and the other soldier draw
their weapons and stand ready to greet them.

“Do what you have to,” yells Jiron. “I’ll
take out the guards.”

Riding hard, Jiron pulls ahead of James and
aims his horse straight for the two waiting soldiers at the foot of
the bridge. They stand to block his path, one again shouting
something unintelligible at him. Just before he reaches the
beginning of the bridge, the two guards dive to the side to avoid
being caught under his horse’s hooves.

Bringing his horse to an abrupt halt, Jiron
vaults from the saddle and his two knives are in hand before he
lands on the ground.

The guard on the right sees him coming
toward him and strikes out with his sword. Jiron deflects it and
follows through with his other knife, barely missing his shoulder
as the man twists away.

From behind him, he hears the other soldier
approaching and sidesteps quickly just as the soldier’s sword
pierces the space he had just vacated. Lashing out with his foot,
he catches the man behind him in the chest and knocks him
backward.

Pressing the man in front of him, he feints
a thrust at the man’s face. When the soldier raises his sword
protectively, he strikes out with his other knife and takes him in
the belly. Crying out, the man steps backward where he hits the
railing of the bridge and then tumbles over into the river
below.

Jiron hears the splash as he turns to face
the remaining man. From town, a large group of soldiers are on the
way, as well as several mounted horsemen riding hard from the
center of town. More horns sound as they begin marshalling their
forces.

Twisting to the right, he avoids an overhand
hack by the soldier and then lashes out with his right knife,
scoring a long cut on the man’s forearm.

“Ready!” he hears James yell and a quick
glance shows him getting back on his horse.

Striking out with his foot, he knocks the
soldier off balance as he races for his own horse waiting nearby.
Jumping into the saddle, he kicks it into a quick gallop as he and
James race off the other side.

He looks back to the bridge just as the
horsemen gain the center and then…

Crumph!

…the entire central span of the bridge
explodes outward, throwing stone, horses and men into the air. They
pause a moment to wait for the dust to clear and when it does finds
that James has created a twelve foot gap in the bridge.

The soldiers on the other side come to a
startled stop as debris begins raining down upon them. Jiron
watches as a dead, mangled horse falls and crushes two soldiers who
hadn’t moved quickly enough.

“That should do it,” he says to James.

Looking tired, James replies, “I hope
so.”

Getting their horse back up to speed, they
follow the road as they leave the town and the broken bridge behind
them.

Two men stand before the large basin of dark
water. An image plays across its surface, a ruined bridge and two
men on horseback riding away. One man is armored head to toe with a
large sword hanging at his hip. Cruel eyes gaze from within the
dark helm, rage practically oozing from every pore of his
being.

The other man next to him wears a red robe,
the hooded cowl hiding his features. He can feel the rage of the
man next to him and prays that it will not be directed at him.

Suddenly, the door to the room where they
stand before the basin opens and one of the armored man’s acolytes
enters.

“Prepare the army,” the helmed man says.

“Yes milord,” the acolyte replies before
leaving and closing the door behind him.

“Are you sure that’s him?” the voice from
within the helm says.

“Yes, milord,” replies the cowled man. “His
magic is singularly unique. We’ve never been able to ascertain
why.”

The mage. The bearer of the Star! The one
who defeated Abula-Mazki! One who seems to travel at will within
the Empire, yet none can stop him. Hate and anger radiate from the
armored man with a palpable force as he gazes at the figure riding
away from the ruined bridge.

As he turns to leave the room, he says,
“Keep me informed of his progress.”

“Yes, milord,” replies the cowled man.
Turning back to the basin, he continues to watch the two
riders.

Leaving the room, the man in armor sees the
commander of his army waiting for him. “Send riders to Kirak and
Zuri. Tell them the mage has just destroyed the bridge at Cerinet
and may be coming their way. They’re to stop him from reaching
Cardri at all costs.”

“Yes milord,” the commander says. He turns
to go and carry out his Lord’s order.

Watching the commander leave, the man in
armor looks out over the preparations the host before him makes for
getting underway. With a vow to his dark god, the man moves to take
charge of the army and destroy this harbinger of doom.
He must
not reach Cardri!

Two hours after leaving the bridge, they
still haven’t seen any sign of enemy patrols. They left the road an
hour ago, angling more toward the mountains in the hopes of finding
better cover in which to hide. They’ll have to follow the mountains
around to the south in the hopes of finding a viable way
across.

To the north is Pleasant Meadows which holds
an army that may or may not be on the way. To the east is more
enemy territory, plus it brings them further away from Cardri and
home. The last time they tried to get across the Silver Mountains
in this area, they were fleeing from a forest fire which James had
inadvertently started while battling forces pursuing them from the
town of Mountainside. They had stumbled across a rope suspension
bridge which spanned a deep gorge and barely made it across before
the inferno behind them consumed it. With the collapsing of the
bridge, that way is no longer viable.

Over the Silver Mountains to the west lies a
giant cloud, smoke from the fires still raging to the north. When
they draw close enough to be able to see the devastation the
passing of the fire had wrought they realize the shelter they hoped
to gain from the forest upon the mountains is no longer possible.
The trees are burnt husks, a forest of black spires reaching to the
sky.

“Since the fire’s moving north, the trees to
the south of Mountainside may still be untouched,” states
Jiron.

“Perhaps,” agrees James. “I’m just hoping
another garrison hasn’t been sent there yet. Could make things more
interesting than I would want.”

“We’ll see,” he replies.

They come to the road running alongside the
mountains as it winds its way through the gently rolling hills at
their base. Turning south, they follow the road for awhile before
James says, “We need to find somewhere to rest. My horse is
beginning to droop.”

“Mine too,” he says.

Ten minutes later, they come to where a
series of hills rise more steeply. Moving off the road, they find a
space behind one of the hills which will prevent them from being
spotted by anyone traveling upon the road.

Leaving the saddles on the horses in case a
quick getaway is required, they find some grass and water for their
steeds before settling in themselves. Taking turns at watch, they
rest throughout the rest of the day.

At one point, a rider is heard riding fast
from the north. Jiron moves to the top of the hill overlooking the
road. The rider turns out to be a lone soldier leading a spare
mount. He watches him race past their hiding spot and quickly
disappear down the road to the south.