Shades of the Past_ Book Six of the Morcyth Saga - Brian S. Pratt [108]
Chapter Eighteen
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Regaining consciousness with one dilly of a headache, James shields his eyes from the light coming in through the window. The palm of his right hand is bandaged and aches.
“You okay?” Jiron asks as he comes forward from across the room.
James turns his head and sees him approaching. Upon the table in their room are stacked several plates of food as well as a pitcher and three mugs. “A little thirsty,” he says, his voice rasping slightly.
Jared takes one of the mugs and fills it with ale from the pitcher. Bringing it over, he hands it to him.
Taking the mug, he props himself up against the wall at the head of the bed and takes a sip. “Ahhhh,” he says after downing the entire mugful of ale. He hands the mug back to Jared and says, “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome,” he replies. Filling the mug once more with ale, he hands it back to James. This time, he drinks it more slowly.
“You had us worried there for awhile,” Jiron says with a grin.
“I was too,” he admits. After taking another swallow of ale he adds, “I don’t think they found me. I couldn’t believe the power that was being used though. It was massive. If they would have narrowed their search down any further, I couldn’t have held them off.”
“Feel up to traveling?” Jared asks.
“Worried about being found out?” Jiron asks him.
“A little,” he replies. “I’ve already had several people ask about you two. One person heard you moaning.”
“What did you tell them?” asks James.
“That you’re sick,” he tells him.
“We’ll need some sort of cover story that’s believable,” he says as he thinks about it. Getting up off the bed, he wobbles over to the table where he starts in on the food.
“Eat what you want,” offers Jiron. “We already have.”
“Thanks,” he says through a mouthful of bread.
Jiron comes up with the idea of posing as merchants again but James shakes his head. “What would we use for wagons? Goods? Not to mention a letter of travel. No, we need something that will prevent anyone from asking any questions.”
“Like what?” Jared asks.
“Like this,” he says. Reaching into the pouch attached to his belt, he pulls out a necklace with a medallion attached to it. Upon the medallion are three dots forming the ends of a triangle with lines running between them, yet not touching.
Jiron recognizes the necklace James found on the body of a dead priest in the underground temple they discovered on their way back from Saragon. The symbol is that of the warrior priests who worship Dmon-Li. Nodding, he says, “That might do it.”
“What does it mean?” asks Jared as he stares at the necklace hanging from James’ hands.
“It means that I am a servant of Dmon-Li,” he says. “On business for the temple.”
“Isn’t that sort of dangerous?” he says. Then pointing to the necklace he adds, “I mean, what if the wrong person should see that.”
“Let’s hope that doesn’t happen,” Jiron comments.
James swallows a bite of chicken and turns to Jared. “Go down and get the horses ready. We shouldn’t tarry here too long.”
Jared glances to Jiron.
“Are you going to be able to ride?” Jiron asks. He remembers the other times when James had to be tied to the saddle after a magical effort such as he just underwent.
“I’m not feeling that bad,” he replies.
Jiron nods for him to go ahead and Jared leaves to get the horses ready.
Once Jared leaves, James holds up his bandaged hand and looks questioningly to Jiron.
“One of your crystals shattered in your hand,” he explains. “I think at the end when you began spasming was when it was cut.”
“Oh.” He finishes his meal in short order and then gets to his feet. “Shall we?” he asks.
“May as well,” Jiron replies.
They leave the room but not before giving it a once over to make sure they didn’t leave anything behind. That’s something his grandparents always instilled in him whenever they went anywhere. When the car was packed with everything from