The Mists of Sorrow_ Book Seven of the Morcyth Saga - Brian S. Pratt [166]
James brings them to a halt and turns to Miko. “What do you mean we have to ‘stop what is going to happen’?”
“Just what I said,” he replies. “This goes far beyond Tinok, Cassie, even you James.”
“You’ll have to explain that to me,” Scar says.
“Something’s been gnawing at me ever since you told us your last vision when you learned it was Cassie in your dreams,” he explains. “And it finally, as you say, clicked together. I don’t believe the dream was given to you for Tinok’s benefit. Rather, it was a way to get you to go to that temple in the middle of the Mists.”
Turning to Brother Willim he says, “Your dreams of late have ended with the sundering of a black, mist shrouded tree. From which a creature issues forth and destroys the garden. Am I right in saying the garden represents the world?”
Brother Willim nods his head. “I have always thought so.”
“A black tree shrouded in mist and now a black temple residing within a blanket of mist.” Glancing from between Brother Willim and James he concludes, “It’s too much of a coincidence with everything that’s been happening.”
Nodding, Brother Willim says, “I agree. I came to that conclusion a short time ago.”
“Therefore, something is going to happen within the High Temple of Dmon-Li when the moon turns black. Whatever it is, should it be successful, will destroy the world.”
They grow silent as each ponders what he just said. “Could it be possible?” Aleya asks. Gone is her stern glare to Jiron. Now a more thoughtful, perhaps even fearful expression has taken its place.
“Yes,” replies James. He remembers that other place he was in long ago, the one with the burnt trees and shadows that Igor had rescued him from. “Oh yes, I believe it can happen. That it probably has happened to other worlds, other places.”
Miko turns to face James. “Is this why I was made High Priest?” he asks.
“More than likely,” he replies with a nod. “As High Priest, you would bring more to the table than just being plain old Miko.”
“How far away is this temple?” asks Scar.
They turn to Perrilin who says, “The Mists of Sorrow lay a little over a day to the southwest, but their position fluctuates at times. Once within them, I’m not sure how much further the temple will be.”
“Then I suggest we ride for another couple hours and then rest until dawn,” Jiron says. “In the morning ride until we reach the Mists then rest until the following morning. It would be best if we were at our peak when entering the Mists.”
James nods. “I agree,” he says.
Moving on, they ride to the southwest as planned and stop after putting many miles behind them. They post a watch throughout the night while they sleep. Once the sun begins to rise once more, they’re back in the saddle and again moving southwest.
The terrain grows steadily more unforgiving the further they go. Cracked land and stunted trees for as far as the eye can see. After leaving their campsite, Brother Willim is the first to notice the lack of living things in the area. “I can’t sense any birds or beasts nearby,” he announces at one point. “I’ve never before been to an area such as this.”
“What could it mean?” asks Reilin.
“Nothing good I assure you,” the priest replies.
The day progresses hot and dry. Worries rise as they push deeper into what Scar has begun to call the land of the dead, a not too far off description considering the lack of life they’ve encountered.
Three hours before sundown, the Mists of Sorrow appears on the horizon. Just as he remembers it, a wall of fog in an area where no fog should be able to exist. As they ride forward, the wall of fog steadily grows until they come to within a mile of it. There they stop and make camp for the night.
“We’ll stay here through the night,” James tells the others as they set about making camp. “We should be safe enough here.”
Jiron looks at the wall of fog with