Tides of Faith: Travail of The Dark Mage Book Two (57 page)

Scar argued that doing so opened them
up to questions and possible trouble from the locals.

“If we get into hot water,” Father
Keller said, “we can always bring out the Dark Mage’s apprentices
in their mage robes to handle it.” He glanced to the two young
lads. “Right?”

“Yes,” Azhan agreed. “We would only be
too pleased to prove ourselves to our master’s friends.”

Hikai agreed.

The priest turned back to Scar.
“See?”

“I would not trust our fate to those
two.”

“The Reverend Father said they could
be trusted,” Father Vickor chimed in. “So they can be trusted with
our fate if the situation calls for it.”

Scar eyed the two priests
and realized he would get nowhere so conceded the need to return to
the road and not keep so close to the
Waste
.

“We may not get anything,” Potbelly
whispered.

“Shhh,” Scar said, glancing about
hoping his friend had not been overheard. When it looked as if the
comment had gone unnoticed, he continued. “We will. Minions of evil
gods are drawn to James like moths to a flame. If we remain within
his company, we will get our beast.”

Louder so all could hear, he said,
“The road is but an hour away. We should make it in no time.” Then
to the priests, “How is our lady doing?”

“Not good,” Father Vickor replied.
“She needs bed rest not being hauled from one end of the Empire to
the other.”

“I would be more than happy to rid
ourselves of this woman,” Scar stated. “But for some reason, James
and Miko feel she is needful.”

“She may shed light on the shimmering
in the sky.”

Scar turned to Azhan. “It would be
best, Apprentice, if you spoke only when spoken to.”

Bristling at the harsh words, the
young mage bit his tongue and remained silent.

“That’s better.”

Turning his horse eastward, Scar made
for the road all the while scanning the horizon in the hopes of
spying something moving, dangerous, and would draw a
crowd.

The first hour over a dozen
creatures fell prey to improvised slugs James gathered as they
walked; nearly half again that, the next. The further they pushed
into the
Waste
,
the more numerous fell creatures became. Every few minutes one or
the other would turn about to scan behind them for any creature
sneaking up on them. When found, slugs would take them
down.

“What I can’t understand is what keeps
them alive?”

“Not sure what you mean.”

James gestured to the countryside. Off
to their right five distinct creatures moved, straight ahead were
three others, and nearly a dozen looked to be moving in a herd way
off to their left. One of those in their path fell to a stone. They
were everywhere.

“How can they survive? There is no
food for them. Are they herbivores? If so, little remains of the
sparse vegetation this land had before the war. The radiation
burned it off so to speak.

“And if they are carnivores, upon what
animal do they feed? Since encountering the first of these
creatures,” he paused and turned to Miko, “how many gnawed-upon
carcasses have we seen?”

“None,” replied Miko.

“Precisely my point. So, if vegetation
is sparse and they aren’t eating animals, what is keeping them
going?”

“Interesting question.”

Launching a stone forward, James
dropped another one.

“Thought magic might be sustaining
them, but realized I would have sensed that.”

“Radiation?” Miko
suggested.

“Though I seriously doubt that, it
remains my best guess.”

“They could be feeding on the
radiation in some way like the vines do.”

James nodded. “Possibly.”

Launching two more stones cleared
their immediate path. Those to either side had yet to take notice
of the two interlopers passing through their territory.

“They sure are a nuisance though,”
James said. “Wouldn’t really call them dangerous.”

“Not to one who can kill them readily
from afar,” Miko replied. “Should one get loose in a town, they
might not be so easily dealt with.”

“True enough.”

Gathering more stones, they continue
on toward the Star.

Saying that travel upon the road was
sparse was being generous. One lone rider had passed them shortly
after they reached it, and that was two hours ago with nary another
soul to be seen.

Eddra remained unconscious in her
carriage with Father Keller continuing to watch over her. The
swollenness of her face had eased though her eye remained puffy and
closed. Despite his best efforts, her overall condition continued
to deteriorate.

“We need to find an inn,” he
announced. “I don’t think she can take much more of this.” He
looked to Azhan. “Is there one close?”

The young mage shrugged. “I don’t
know. This is Warlord Cytok’s territory and it would have been
death for us to be here.”

Hikai nodded agreement.

Kip rode close. “I can ride ahead and
try to find someplace suitable.”

“I’ll go with him,” offered Father
Vickor.

Father Keller nodded. “That would be
best.”

Seeing an opportunity to do something
besides ride, Shorty offered to go as well.

“How about a farmhouse?”

Turning to Scar, Father Keller said,
“That would do just fine.”

Scar pointed to the southeast where
just within visual range rose most of what used to be walls of a
farmhouse.

Father Keller didn’t look all that
impressed. “Perhaps I should have specified a whole farmhouse; one
which has the ability to keep the warmth in and the elements
out.”

“It might work,” Potbelly said. “Most
of the walls look sound.”

“All she needs is a single room of
relative effectiveness where she can recuperate,” Scar
added.

Father Keller’s expression indicated
he had his doubts.

“I’ll take Father Vickor and young Kip
here and we’ll check it out,” Jiron offered. “If it’s suitable, it
would make a good place to hole up for a day or so.” He glanced to
the priests. “I anticipate reaching Zixtyn at least two days before
James and Miko. Better to rest now where we will not have to worry
about unwanted eyes and ears. Be better for her in any
event.”

“I can’t argue that,” Father Keller
said.

“Then wait here and we’ll check it
out.”

When Jira turned her horse to follow,
Jiron shook his head. “You better stay here and watch over the
priests.”

She laid her hand on her knife hilt
and nodded solemnly.

“Just like her father,” came a
whispered murmur.

Jiron’s gaze roved over the others but
the orator remained silent. Though there were a few grins and
smiles, he couldn’t determine exactly who had said it.

“Come on,” he said and kicked his
horse into motion before his own grin broke out. Yes, he wanted a
better life for his little Jira. But on the other hand, he was damn
proud of her as she was. Woe be the boy who tried to kiss her
before she was ready. She was a kick-ass little fire eater and
there was nothing wrong with that.

It quickly became apparent that the
farmhouse was in serious disrepair and hadn’t been occupied for
quite some time. Vegetation had grown up to the walls and in some
cases sprouted through the cracks.

The wall facing their approach was
fairly intact. A small section to the right of the doorway had
collapsed but otherwise looked decent. Riding around to the right,
he found the adjoining wall to be completely intact. The back wall
however was all but gone as was the entire fourth one. Two inner
walls dividing off the bedroom showed some crumbling but retained
most of their integrity. The roof was missing in places; a check in
the bedroom revealed a small hole in the roof.

Jiron turned to Father Vickor. “Will
this do?”

“For the moment, yes.” Then to Kip,
“Hurry back and tell Father Keller that we shall camp
here.”

“Yes, Father.”

“We’ll make a pallet for her over in
the corner,” Father Vickor said, pointing to where complete walls
joined beneath a sizeable stretch of intact roof.

“At most we shall stay here two days,”
Jiron said. “We dare not risk not being in Zixtyn for too long
before they arrive.”

“Two days should prove
adequate.”

Jiron left the priest in the farmhouse
and went outside to assess the tactical situation. They were a fair
distance from the road so those passing by would not stumble upon
them. If they kept smoke to a minimum they may be able to escape
detection until they departed.

Kip reached the others and after a
brief interchange with Father Keller, turned around and headed
back. Jira joined him. Starting out at first at a walk, Jira kicked
her horse into a gallop. Kip was quick to follow suit. She had a
lead on him but he quickly gained it back.

Jiron walked to the front and arrived
a moment before Jira passed him.

“I won!” she squealed, though her
elation was short-lived. The look her father flashed her subdued
her. He didn’t say anything, his displeasure at her dangerous
gallop was quite clear.

“Sorry, Father.”

He gave Kip an equally disapproving
glare. “You two are on firewood duty. Gather enough for two
days.”

“But…”

His expression would brook no
argument.

Her shoulders sagged as she sighed,
“Yes, Father.”

Shorty and Tinok he sent out hunting
small game.

The priests used some of her blankets,
pillows and other cushionings from the carriage for a pallet then
transferred her very carefully from the carriage and placed her on
it.

To his fellow priest, Father Keller
said, “She will need broth.” He pulled two blankets over her then
brushed aside a wayward strand of gray hair.

“I will make a stew and drain off a
bowl for her,” Father Vickor replied.

Father Keller laid a hand on her chest
and Morcyth’s glow suffused them both. “Even with the carriage I’m
afraid she hasn’t fared well on this journey,” he said with eyes
closed. A moment later the glow faded and he looked to Father
Vickor. “Life has a tenuous hold on her.”

“Two days rest will help.”

“I hope so. If not, I fear for her
survival when we leave.”

“Where are you two going?”

Scar tightened the strap on
the pack horse and turned to Jiron. “Me and Potbelly are going to
reconnoiter a little closer to the
Waste
. Make sure no creature sneaks
up on us.”

“Yes,” agreed Potbelly. “Wouldn’t do
to have a pitched battle with poor old Eddra lying there on her
deathbed and all.”

“Uh-huh,” he replied, suspiciously.
“See that you don’t get yourselves killed.”

Grinning, Potbelly slapped him on the
back. “We’ll be back before you leave.”

“If you aren’t,” Jiron warned, “meet
us in Zixtyn.”

Scar swung up into the saddle. “You
worry too much.”

“And you not enough.”

Scar just laughed. Then to Potbelly he
said, “Let’s go.”

“See you in a few days,” Potbelly
hollered.

They headed out due west with their
packhorses in tow.

Three hours later they came across
tracks cutting diagonally across their path. From the depth of the
indentation and the distance they were from each other, whatever it
was had to be big.

“Came out of the
Waste
.”

Scar dismounted and gave the tracks a
closer scrutiny. “Might be one of those stalky-creatures that
Brother Willim killed.”

Scanning the land where the tracks
were headed failed to reveal their owner.

“How long ago?” Potbelly
asked.

Standing, Scar shook his head. “Not
sure. Less than a day I would think.”

“Should we go for it?”

Weighing the possibility of catching
it before their time ran out versus encountering another coming
from the Waste, Scar finally shook his head. “I could be wrong on
the time. If less than twelve hours we might stand a chance.
Besides, it’s moving toward populated areas and whoever it
encounters will surely kill it.”

“Be a waste of time following it only
to find it dead.”

Grabbing the pommel of his
saddle, Scar swung up. “Exactly. We’re close to the
Waste
. Bound to be
others.”

“Then let us find them.”

The dead patch of vines they sat in
was barely fifteen feet across. It had been the only one large
enough to have an inner dead patch they had seen today. Others had
held small patches less than a meter in diameter to ones with
healthy patches of vines forty-fifty feet wide whose center growth
had yet to even begin to wither.