The Mists of Sorrow_ Book Seven of the Morcyth Saga - Brian S. Pratt [164]
Thinking back on his life, he now regrets his decision to leave Jiron and the others. Fate has led him awry it seems. How he wishes to be able to see the face of his friend one last time before the end. For he feels that his end is approaching.
Chapter Twenty Nine
_________________________
At the rendezvous near the western edge of town, they find Miko and Brother Willim with the horses. The others have yet to make it back from the Wallowing Swine. “They haven’t returned yet?” asks James.
Shaking his head, Brother Willim says, “Not yet.”
“Damn!” curses Jiron. “We don’t have time to stand here and wait for them.”
“I know,” agrees Miko. When James looks to him he adds, “We heard the explosions.”
“I think everyone in town heard them,” comments Brother Willim.
“So what do we do?” Jiron asks James.
“We wait,” he replies. “That’s all we can do.”
Brother Willim asks Jiron, “Did you find out what you came here for?”
Nodding, Jiron says, “Buka said that he was taken to some place called Ith-Zirul. Ever heard of it?”
Brother Willim’s face blanches slightly at the name. Nodding his head, a grim expression comes over him. “If that is where your friend has been taken, then all hope is lost,” he says.
“Why?” Jiron asks.
“That’s what Buka said too,” says James at the same time. “What does it mean?”
Taking a deep breath, Brother Willim explains. “Ith-Zirul is the High Temple of Dmon-Li.”
“Dmon-Li!” exclaims James.
“It is said none other than those who worship Dmon-Li ever leave Ith-Zirul,” he says. “And if your friend is indeed within the walls of that cursed place, it would explain some things.”
“Such as?” asks Jiron. The hope that he experienced when he first heard of the location of his friend is slowly dying the more he learns of where he is.
“For one thing, it would explain why you can’t use magic to find him,” he explains. “The temple would be warded against such things. Also, you said the image was fuzzy when you saw him. That no matter how much magic you used, it never became better.”
“That’s right,” states James.
“You see,” Brother Willim says, “the High Temple of Dmon-Li is hidden within the Mists of Sorrow.”
James nods his head as more connections are made. “During our journey to find Miko when he was captured by the Empire,” he begins, “we passed by a wall of fog that one of our number said was the Mists of Sorrow.” Turning to Jiron he asks, “Remember?”
Nodding, Jiron says, “Yes, I remember.”
“When Delia and I went to examine it in the morning, it was so close to our camp that we saw a shadow pass through its fringe. At the time I didn’t know what it was, and frankly hadn’t thought about it until now. It was one of those hell hounds that have been set against us on several occasions.”
“You mean the Mists is guarded by those things?” Jiron asks.
“It would seem so,” he says.
“The Mists is just the first hurdle,” Brother Willim says. “After that there is trying to find the entrance. From what my brethren have been able to gather over the centuries, the temple is massive. We could be in the Mist for a long time before ever coming to the door. All the while, you can rest assured they will be throwing everything they have at us.”
“And should we make it through the Mists and enter the temple,” James says, “we still have to find Tinok.” To Brother Willim he asks, “Will my magic be able to locate him once we’re within its walls?”
“I just don’t know,” he says. “It would depend on the type of wards they have in place.”
Then all of a sudden their attention is drawn to rapidly approaching footsteps coming from further into town. From the sound of it there must be more than a couple people coming toward them.
Jiron places a hand on the hilt of one of his knives and moves toward the sound while the others remain quietly with the horses. As whoever is approaching draws closer, he can hear one of them asks, “Where the heck are they?”
He relaxes when he realizes the voice belongs to Scar. “Over here!” he calls out softly. The footsteps come to a stop and he can now see their silhouettes