• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

“Yes we are,” Jiron states with finality.

“Very well then.” He then grins as he says, “If we don’t get ourselves killed in the process, this will make one unbelievable saga.”

Jiron chuckles, “You got that right. It already has been.”

“Now Cyst, the town we left rather abruptly had a temple, but it wasn’t what you would call a main one,” he explains. “Further to the south is a larger town by the name of Zixtyn. I’ve been there several times and the temple there trains many of Dmon-Li’s new acolytes. It’s not just a single temple but a complex of over a dozen large buildings and another score or more of auxiliary structures. If there’s any place that would have one of those teleportation daises, it’s there.”

“How far is it?” Jiron asks.

“Two, maybe three days,” he says. “There is another city just over a day or so to the east that has a temple, though it isn’t nearly as large as the one in Zixtyn. But if it should prove not to have one, it could complicate things.”

Jiron nods, “Not to mention the fact that we would waste time Tinok does not have.”

“I don’t think we have much choice,” James tells the others. “In the morning, we’ll make for Zixtyn.” Getting to his feet, he gives out with a yawn and says, “Best we get to bed.”

“We all could use sleep after what we went through today,” agrees Brother Willim.

They then return to where the others are already mostly asleep and find their blankets. Except for Jiron who has pulled the first watch, they are quickly asleep.

Early the next morning when they rise they are alarmed to see the Mists of Sorrow visible to their west. “It’s a good thing we rode as far as we did before we stopped,” Reilin says.

James turns to him and then gestures to the mist, “That’s why we did.” To Scar he asks, “How’s Stig doing?”

“Better,” he replies. Scar and Potbelly are sitting with Stig and sharing a quick breakfast before they get underway.

Stig looks up and says, “I’m sore. Those creatures really pack a mean punch.”

“You know,” begins Scar, “if they ever get the Pits open again, we could make a fortune if we could somehow manage to get one of them and put it in there to fight.”

Eyes lighting up, Potbelly exclaims, “Everyone would come to see it, and pay handsomely for the opportunity!”

Jiron turns on them and says, “Now all you have to do is go back into the mist and get one.”

Scar waves away the hand, “Details, details.” He and Potbelly begin working on a way in which they could make this venture a reality.

“They’ve got to be out of their minds,” Reilin comments to James.

He grins and shrugs. “It gives them something to do.”

They keep a constant watch on the Mists. It makes no move to either come closer or pull back, and nothing emerges from it. James was sure they would have kept up the pursuit, after all they had him and the others almost taken out as it was. The only explanation he’s been able to come up with is that the foes they encountered had the duty to prevent anyone from passing through the mist. And once they were out didn’t feel the need to continue the pursuit. Still, it doesn’t feel right.

Once everyone is finished with their less than satisfying meal, they get their horses ready for travel and are soon on the road. “We’ll have to head more to the east on our way to skirt around the other side of the Mists of Sorrow,” Perrilin states. “There’s a major trade route over there that runs from Cyst to Zixtyn.”

“But won’t they be looking for us after yesterday?” cautions Aleya.

“Possibly,” replies James. Taking out his mirror, he holds it up and adds, “I’ll be keeping a lookout for anything that we may need to stay clear of.”

“Besides,” adds Stig, “a major trade route will have heavy traffic traveling upon it which will enable us to blend in.”

“Hadn’t thought of that,” admits James. “Good thinking.” To Jiron he says, “You and Reilin take the lead. Head due east until we come to the road.”

“You got it,” he says. Then with a nudge into the sides