The Star of Morcyth: The Morcyth Saga Book Five (37 page)

Breathing hard from the fight, he makes his
way back to where James is lying. Sitting down next to him, he
rests his head on his knees. Glancing to his friend he wonders just
how long he’ll be out this time.

He closes his eyes for just a moment before
a nearby noise brings him suddenly alert. Opening his eyes, he
turns to find a man in robes approaching and a dozen soldiers of
the Empire behind him. Three have crossbows leveled at him.

“That was quite impressive,” the Empire’s
mage tells him as he continues to draw near. “Don’t know how you
defeated the Guardian’s set against you.” Glancing to James lying
comatose on the ground beside him, the mage turns to the soldiers
and says, “Take them.”

Unable to do anything with the crossbowmen
there, he does nothing as they tie his arms behind his back.

After they tie him securely, he’s put into
the back of a nearby wagon along with the comatose James. The mage
takes a seat in the front of the wagon with one of the soldiers
next to him taking the reins. One soldier and crossbowman climb
into the back of the wagon with their prisoners, the others mount
awaiting horses. Then the soldier driving the wagon flicks the
reins and the wagon begins rolling. Moving onto the road, they head
down it toward the Madoc side.

Sitting in the back of the wagon as it rolls
along, bumps making his position decidedly uncomfortable, Jiron
keeps an eye on James. Other than the predicament they’re in, he
seems okay. The soldiers and mage are silent as they roll along
which suits him just fine. He tries to work the knot of his bonds
loose but the soldier in the back with him notices and shakes his
head. Seeing the implied threat in the man’s eyes, he stops.

They roll for another several hours before
turning off the road. They follow a path which is little more than
a game trail for another twenty minutes before arriving at a
clearing where a camp has already been set up.

More soldiers are there as well as many
slaves. How they managed to get all this here without being
detected is something Jiron isn’t likely to find out anytime soon.
Several tents dot the clearing as well as three other wagons. As
they roll to a stop the mage gets down and says something to one of
the soldiers before disappearing inside the largest tent which sits
in the center of the clearing.

The soldier comes over to the side of the
wagon and says to Jiron, “Come on down.”

Doing the best he can with his wrists tied
behind him, he rises in the back of the wagon. Putting one foot on
the edge he hops over to the ground below. The soldier and
crossbowman in the back pick up James.

“This way,” the soldier says as he turns and
leads him over to another smaller tent to the side. The two
carrying James follow.

The other people in the camp pause in what
they’re doing to stare at the new arrivals. Whispered mutterings
can be heard throughout the clearing. As they approach the tent,
one soldier holds open the flap as he and James are put inside.
Then they proceed to remove all their items but the clothes on
their backs.

Shortly after that a civilian and a slave
enter and come over to where James is lying on the ground. The man
is holding a vial in his hand and with the slave’s help, pours the
contents into his mouth. After waiting several minutes to make sure
it was swallowed, he and the slave leave.

Aside from a guard posted outside, they’re
left pretty much alone. Jiron works at his bindings and finally
gets them undone. He doesn’t bother trying to awaken James, he
realizes that aside from the fact he probably wouldn’t wake up
anyway, having again overextended himself with magic, he’s likely
drugged as well.

Moving close to his friend, he checks to
make sure he’s still breathing and otherwise okay. Then he sits
back and waits for whatever their captors plan to do next. He has a
pretty good idea of the layout of the camp and sits near the edge
of the tent in order to attempt to keep track of what’s going on
outside.

Not more than a half hour goes by before
footsteps are heard approaching the tent. The flap is pulled aside
and the mage enters followed by two soldiers. Once inside, the tent
flap is again allowed to close.

The mage glances from the unconscious James
to Jiron and notices he’s managed to remove his bindings. One
soldier pulls his sword to keep Jiron at bay while the mage
approaches James.

“Don’t touch him!” warns Jiron.

The soldier with the drawn sword comes
forward and strikes him across the face with his other hand.
“Impertinent dog!” he says derisively.

Kneeling down near James’ head, the mage
lifts one eyelid and examines his eye for a moment before closing
it. Returning to his feet, he glances again to James. “So, this is
the mage causing the Empire so much trouble,” he says. He looks to
Jiron as if for confirmation but Jiron remains silent.

“Doesn’t seem like much,” he continues, “but
you two did defeat two of the Guardians.” He stands there, gaze
boring into Jiron for a moment. “Now,” he finally continues, “tell
me where the Fire lies?”

“Fire?” questions Jiron. “What’s that?”

A dark expression comes over the mage as he
says, “Don’t take me for a fool, you know what it is. You and he
have been together almost from the beginning.”

The beginning of what?
Jiron
questions to himself silently. He remains quiet and defiant.

“Tell me what I want to know!” he demands
with more of an edge to his voice. When Jiron is again
uncooperative, he raises his hand and pain flares throughout
Jiron’s body.

Back arching and muscles contracting
painfully, he clenches his teeth together and fights the urge to
cry out. He doesn’t want to give them the satisfaction.

As quickly as the pain began it quits. “Now,
my patience is beginning to wear thin,” the mage tells him. “Tell
me where it is!”

Jiron raises his head and gazes into the
mage’s eyes. Sweat beads his forehead and his breath is a little
ragged from the excruciating pain he just endured. Giving no
indication of compliance, he stares defiantly at the mage.

Raising his hand again, the mage causes pain
to once more erupt along every nerve in his body. His muscles again
contract painfully, almost to the point where they’ll begin
breaking the bones they’re attached to.

Try as he might, he can’t keep a small gasp
of pain from escaping. After what seems like an eternity, the pain
stops and he flops back to the floor, eyes closed and breath coming
in ragged gasps.

“This will only get worse if you do not tell
me,” warns the mage. “And let me assure you, we have as long as it
takes.” He then says something to one of the soldiers in their
language. The soldier promptly leaves the tent and returns shortly
with a chair for the mage. Taking his seat, he gazes down at Jiron
who has managed to regain some of his composure. “Shall we begin
again?” he asks.

Jiron just spits at him, the spittle
managing to land on the hem of his robes.

The soldier closest to him strikes him
across the face and begins yelling at him in their language.

“Enough,” the mage says and the soldier
stops his tirade. Looking back to the mage, he sees him motioning
for the soldier to move away from Jiron, which he does.

Holding his arm out, the pain once again
flares along Jiron’s already flayed nerve endings. Back arching
almost to the point of snapping his spine, he gnashes his jaws
together to prevent the cry of pain from being torn from him.

“Tell me,” the mage says softly. “Tell me
where the Fire is hidden and this will all end.”

Through an almost insurmountable obstacle of
pain, Jiron cries out, “Never!”

Unrelenting, the mage sends wave after wave
of pain through Jiron’s nervous system, each worse than the one
before. Suddenly, one of the guards standing near the mage bumps
into the mage and breaks his concentration ending the spell.

“Clumsy oaf!” the mage screams to the man as
the backlash of magic burns through him. Pushing the man away, his
anger slowly turns to puzzlement as the man staggers a moment and
then falls face down. Protruding from his back is the back half of
an arrow.

No sooner has the soldier hit the ground
than the tent flap is pulled aside and another soldier begins
talking rapidly to the mage. From outside the tent screams and the
clash of swords can be heard. Then the soldier at the tent flap
suddenly jerks upright and falls to the ground, two arrows embedded
in his back.

The mage gets to his feet, points to Jiron
and James as he says a few words to the remaining guard and then
hurries from the tent.

Jiron lays there, the residual pain coursing
through him beginning to subside. Outside he hears explosions from
magic the mage is wielding against whoever is attacking. The
remaining guard is at the tent flap peering out, occasionally
glancing back to make sure Jiron isn’t trying anything.

As he lays there, strength beginning to
return from the torture of the mage, he looks to the soldier
peering outside. While his attention is focused on the events
unfolding outside the tent, Jiron tries working his muscles to be
sure they’re okay. From the beating he took from the mage, he
wasn’t sure if anything permanent had been done. After a few
minutes he’s sure all is well, the pain must have been more in his
mind than physical in nature. Things like that were mentioned in
some of the old sagas he used to listen to growing up.

He feigns docility as the soldier turns to
glance back toward him. Outside, the clash of arms continues as
does the explosions from the mage. Men are screaming and crying
battle cries. One battle cry he recognizes is that of Madoc, it
must be men from there who are attacking the camp.

At first he thought it might have been Fifer
and the others but then realized there would have been no way for
them to reach here so fast. They have to be at least a day or two
behind, coming on foot as they are.

Once the soldier makes sure that Jiron
remains passive on the ground, he turns back to the events
unfolding outside.

Moving slowly, Jiron quietly begins getting
up off the ground. Just as he’s reached a crouched position, James
lets out with a groan which draws the attention of the soldier back
to the inside of the tent. Gasping at seeing Jiron there ready to
attack, he hollers out for help as he draws his sword.

When James groaned, Jiron’s heart sank as
the man turned to look at him there ready to pounce. Moving
quickly, he grabs the chair the mage had used and barely blocks the
strike of the soldier. Chips fly as the blade hacks out a section
of a leg.

Not giving the man a chance for a second
swing. Jiron immediately closes with him, pushing the chair toward
him and running him into the side of the tent. The resulting impact
brings the tent down and the man’s sword becomes entangled in the
loose folds of the collapsing tent.

Jiron quickly grabs the soldier’s swordarm
and rams his knee into the man’s middle. The soldier’s other fist
lashes out and catches Jiron across the jaw but has little effect
as he didn’t have leverage to put much power behind it.

His knee comes up and catches the soldier in
the groin causing him to freeze immobile for a brief moment, which
allows Jiron to elbow him across the throat, smashing his windpipe.
The man begins gagging in a vain attempt to breathe but his
compacted windpipe starts to swell from the blow and he soon passes
out from lack of oxygen.

Taking the man’s sword, Jiron crawls through
the collapsed tent until he reaches James. “James!” he whispers
urgently. “Wake up!” His eyes flutter open and he mumbles something
incoherently. Whatever they had given him still keeps him from
functioning properly.

“Damn!” he curses as he turns onto his back
and thrusts the sword upward through the tent material. Sawing with
the sword, he quickly cuts a three foot slit and pokes his head out
to see how the battle’s going on outside.

The men from Madoc have the numbers but the
Empire’s mage is taking them out readily enough. Arrows fly toward
the mage but none reach their mark, he has a barrier surrounding
him similar to the one James utilizes. So far no one has taken any
notice of the collapsing of the tent, so intent are they on the
attackers.

Jiron uses his hands and widens the gap
further and slips outside. Reaching back in, he uncovers James and
then looks around for an escape route. Over by the main tent are
several horses, fortunately still saddled. The Empire’s forces are
over to the far side where the attackers from Madoc are mostly
concentrated.

Hoping that his mistreated muscles will bear
the weight he reaches down, lifts James over his shoulder and
begins carrying him toward the horses. The sound of swords clashing
and the cries of men caught within terrible magic resound
throughout the clearing.

The gloom of twilight lends an eerie feel to
the proceedings but gives Jiron the shelter he needs to remain
unobserved as he crosses over to the awaiting horses. Once he’s
reached them, he puts James over one and begins to secure him
on.

“Jiron,” he hears him say as he’s tying his
hands and feet together with a rope looped under the belly of the
horse.

Moving to where his head hangs, he hears
James ask, “What happened?”

“Captured by Empire soldiers,” he replies.
“They took all our stuff and we’re getting out of here.”

“My crystals?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” he says as he cinches the
last knot tight. Jerking his head toward the main tent they’re next
to he adds, “Maybe in there. Do you need them?”

Shaking his head, he says, “As we leave,
take me closer.”