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The Mists of Sorrow_ Book Seven of the Morcyth Saga - Brian S. Pratt [242]

By Root 2442 0
“My time is running out and there’s still one more thing to do.”

James looks on curiously as Igor walks a dozen feet away. Then all of a sudden an archway appears beside the little guy. James’ eyes widen as he recognizes his grandparent’s home on the other side.

“A choice lies before you James,” Igor tells him. “You have but to pass through this arch to be returned to the life you left behind.”

James comes to his feet and approaches the arch. The feelings of homesickness that he thought were behind him come back in force. “Can I return here if I do?” he asks.

“No James,” replies Igor. “I assure you, the opportunity will not present itself again in your lifetime.”

Then the front door opens and his grandmother comes outside. She takes her place in her favorite chair on the porch and begins rocking. Emotions rise, as memories come of the times when he used to sit in her lap as she rocked him in that very same chair as a boy. Unbidden, a tear runs down his cheek as he watches her rock.

Igor moves over to the pizza box and grabs another slice of pizza.

“I…I don’t know,” James says, turning from the arch to look back to Igor.

“I must go, James,” Igor says. “The archway will remain for ten minutes. Then it will vanish.” Then he shoves the entire slice into his mouth.

James turns to look at his grandmother rocking on the porch once more. “But what…” he begins to say as he turns his head to look back at Igor. He leaves the question unasked when he realizes that he’s alone in the clearing.

Ten minutes to decide the rest of my life?

He sits on the ground before the archway. Holding out a hand he forms his orb. Can I give this up so readily? But then looking back to his grandmother, he knows that he’s all she and his grandfather have. Without him, they have no one.

Wracked with indecision, he continues to sit as he ponders what to do.

“James, there comes a time when…” A talk he and his grandfather had months before he answered the ad that started all this comes to mind. His grandfather had wisdom that he didn’t appreciate at the time. He simply thought it was just another attempt to get him motivated in finding a job. But now that his view of the world, and life especially, has grown, he understands just what his grandfather had been trying to tell him.

Making his decision, he gets to his feet.

The following spring, life is good. Rebuilding continues to bring the City of Light back to life. Some sections of the city that were destroyed during the siege and subsequent occupation by the Empire have been rebuilt. One building in particular has been given prominence in the construction effort. Still not even a third completed, it’s going to take another year or two, maybe even longer, before the High Temple of Morcyth is completed.

Its walls rise in uneven levels as the work progresses at varying speed depending on what is being built in each particular area. It actually didn’t take that long to come up with a blueprint for how the temple was to be laid out. One evening Miko and a master builder went into a room at a local inn and the next morning, the plans were formed. Only divine guidance could have made that possible in such a short time.

Today however, all work has been suspended. The Madoc Patriarchal Council has declared this day a holiday, that all work must cease until the sun rises on the morrow. The city is enjoying a party the likes of which it has rarely seen and everyone has turned out.

Several buildings which had been built upon the old temple site were demolished and the rubble removed over the winter. Lord Pytherian had loaned the effort several hundred soldiers, else it would never have been done so quickly. What will one day be the temple’s courtyard has been decorated in festive, spring flowers, garlands, and anything else the people could lay their hands on.

“Are they coming?” one lady shouts to the two men standing at the entrance to the temple.

“Almost,” one of them yells back.

“He better hurry up or there won’t be any food left,” Scar says.

“You got that right,” replies Potbelly. “Look at

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