Shades of the Past_ Book Six of the Morcyth Saga - Brian S. Pratt [164]
Up before first light, they’re back on the road and put a mile behind them before the sun breaks over the horizon. Using the same alternating pace as the day before, they eat up the miles quickly.
Two hours before noon, date bearing trees appear ahead of them. It’s the oasis where they rescued Jiron from the Commander of Ten when he was captured in that ill-fated mission to retrieve James’ backpack from Mountainside. A caravan is currently watering their horses at the oasis’ pool, ten wagons along with an accompanying guard of twenty.
“Better not get too close,” cautions Jiron.
“I agree,” replies James.
The road passes alongside the oasis and it would be very suspicious if they were to leave the road and pass in the desert. Rather than raise their suspicions, they stay as far away from those at the oasis as the road will allow them without appearing to do so on purpose. They pick up their pace as they hurry past.
One of the guards offers them what sounds like a greeting in the Empire’s tongue. Ignoring him, they continue on. When the guard realizes they aren’t going to answer he shouts at them, obviously offended. James glances back and sees the guards staring at them with an expression of indignation. They lock eyes for a moment before the guard turns back to the others.
“I hate not understanding their language,” comments James after the oasis has disappeared behind them.
“I know what you mean,” agrees Jiron. “Would make life easier. Is there anything you can do with magic that might help?”
“Possibly,” he replies, “though I’m not sure how to go about it. Foreign languages were never my forte.”
Picking up speed, they once again race to catch the force ahead of them. It isn’t long before the road begins turning to a more southerly direction. All of a sudden, Jiron stops in the middle of the road.
“What’s the matter?” asks James coming to a stop as well.
Jiron is studying the ground intently. “I think they left the road already,” he explains. The telltale signs of their passing which have been evident since Bindles are no longer present.
“I think you’re right,” concurs James. Turning back to the north, they watch the road closely as they travel for the spot where the force turned off. A mile back, just after the road turned to the south, they find where the force moved eastward into the desert. Turning to follow, they break into a gallop.
An hour into the desert, they see the dust rising from the marching feet of thousands of soldiers. They slow when they come within visual range of the soldiers. At least seven thousand strong, they look to mainly consist of foot soldiers. Only a fraction are cavalry, maybe less than five hundred.
“Do you sense a mage?” Jiron asks.
Shaking his head, he says, “No. I haven’t felt any other doing magic since before Kern.” Pulling out his mirror, he brings his horse to a halt.
“Do you think that’s wise?” asks Jiron. “If there is a mage with them it could get dicey.”
“I realize that,” he states. Glancing at his friend he adds, “But we need to know the situation. Where are Illan and the others? Are there any other forces converging with this one?”
“Alright, I understand,” concedes Jiron.
Summoning the magic, James has the mirror show an overhead view of the army ahead of them. He scrutinizes the leading edge of the force and finds no sign of a mage among them. Holding the image, he waits for a moment to see if the tingling of magic comes to him. When it fails to materialize, he scrolls the image further east.
Ten miles further ahead of the army lies a river running north and south. Just to the east of the river lies a major road running alongside of it. The road is packed with people.