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Crumph! Crumph!

Two explosions on either side of the road throw dirt and sand upon the riders. Coming to a quick halt, the riders seem as if they are contemplating the wisdom of continuing. To help make up their minds, James suddenly kicks his horse in the flanks and races forward.

Stig and Shorty fly past as he moves toward the riders. The expressions on many of their faces are ones of fear. To go after fleeing riders is one thing, but to go head to head with a mage of such power is quite another. Their minds finally made up, they turn tail and race back to Morac.

James cancels his spectacular shield once they are fully on their way and then turns his horse back to return to the others.

“Yeah,” Shorty says as he talks to Jiron, “after those soldiers chased you out of the inn’s courtyard, we took two of the horses and exited the other way. We figured the rest of you could handle things well enough without us so worked our way toward one of the gates.”

“That’s right,” adds Stig. “Then when we heard the explosion that must have taken out the gate, we raced toward where you were and arrived just after you left. That’s when those riders back there showed up and gave chase.”

“Glad to have you back,” James tells them. “It might be wise to put as much distance between us and here as fast as we can. I expect pursuit to materialize pretty soon.”

“Then let’s not sit here and talk,” says Jiron. “Cyst awaits.” Turning to follow the road once more to the southeast, he quickly gets his horse up to a fast gallop with the others right behind.

Once Morac has disappeared in the distance behind them, Jiron angles them off the road in an almost due easterly direction. Moving deeper into the desert and away from the road, he doesn’t turn them to the south until the road and the travelers upon it are no longer in sight. Then he turns to run parallel to the road on its way southeast to Cyst.

Throughout the day, James begins sinking into depression. By the time darkness falls and they’ve moved even further into the desert to make camp, he’s withdrawn into himself and only makes one word answers when spoken to.

The others allow him time to himself, those who have ridden with him for some time now know that this is something that comes over him once in a while. Brother Willim however is unable to let him wallow in whatever misery has him in its grip. Once their meal is ready, he takes two bowls of stew and goes over to where James is sitting.

Holding out the bowl, Brother Willim says, “Here.”

James takes it and gives him a short, “Thank you.”

“Mind if I sit down?” he asks.

James shrugs and says, “No.”

Taking a seat on the ground facing him, Brother Willim dips his spoon into the so-called stew and begins eating. He watches James for a moment before saying, “I can tell there’s something gnawing away at you.” James glances up to meet his gaze but makes no comment. “It might ease your mind if you tell me about it.”

Locking eyes with the priest, James says, “Confession good for the soul?”

Brother Willim gives him a brief grin. “Never heard it put that way before, but yes. There are times when keeping your troubles bottled inside can do more harm than good. A tree cannot grow tall if there’s a disease eating it away from the inside.”

James takes another bite and sighs. “The weight of the dead is heavy,” he begins. Glancing again at Brother Willim, he sees the concern and worry for him in his eyes. “Before I came here, I had never been near the dead and dying. Oh sure, I watched the news but had never connected to it emotionally. They say that my people are growing numb to that sort of thing. Heck, we’re inundated with it all the time from every direction. Newspapers, TV, radio, everyday you hear about how this person was found dead, or that person killed for political or religious reasons. But it never really hits you.”

“But now, I personally have been responsible for hundreds, if not thousands of deaths,” he states.

Brother Willim can see the pain