The Mists of Sorrow_ Book Seven of the Morcyth Saga - Brian S. Pratt [41]
“What I want to do is see how fast it is growing,” he explains as he reaches the others. “By placing these swords along its edge every fifty feet or so, we’ll get a good idea of what it’s doing.”
“Why?” asks one of the men as Zyrn takes another sword.
Zyrn stops and looks the man in the eye. “I don’t want to wake up one night to find it at our village,” he says. “Or worse yet, not waking up because it is encompassing our village.”
Striding off to the right of the spot where he placed the first sword, he goes approximately fifty feet from where the first blade is in the ground before coming to a stop. Trying to place the sword exactly the same distance from the edge of the grayness as the other, he thrusts it into the ground. Again making sure the sword will remain standing upright, he returns for another.
Again and again he takes the swords and thrusts them into the ground at the edge of the grayness. When all six swords are firmly fixed into the ground, he stands back and looks at them.
“Now what?” asks one of the men.
Gesturing to the swords he says, “Look at where the swords stand.”
After they look for a few seconds one of them asks, “So?”
“Can’t you see?” he asks. “They do not mark the edge of a circle.”
Taking another look the men see what he is trying to explain. Instead of a smooth circular line, the swords mark areas that extend further out than others.
“It isn’t growing consistently,” Zyrn summarizes. “Rather different areas are pushing out at different rates.”
“Guess your time at the School paid off,” Kabu says.
“The High Lord Magus would know what to do,” he explains. “Though by the time word reached him it might be too late for our village.”
“What now?” asks one of the men.
“Now we wait,” he says. “Learn as much as we can about it so when the priest gets here we can give him some idea of what he’s facing.”
“Look!” one of the men says as he points to the first sword Zyrn placed in the ground. Already the edge of the grayness has reached the blade and is creeping past. Glancing to the others, they see that the grayness in those areas has not moved forward at all.
“Let’s return home and come back tomorrow,” he says. “Then we will know how fast it is spreading.”
Mounting their horses, they turn around and race back to their village.
Day after day they return, Zyrn continues bringing six swords to mark the new edge of the grayness. Though it is spreading, it isn’t spreading very fast. As near as Zyrn can figure, the grayness is advancing around six feet per day. Some areas advance faster while others not so much. Overall, it is keeping a somewhat consistent shape. Should one area advance six or more feet one day, the next day it may only advance a foot or two allowing the rest to catch up.
The mood of the village is gradually worsening. Talk is beginning to spread that they are cursed because they stole from the dead, that the gods are angry with them. Some believe the grayness is their punishment.
After the third day, others from various villages in the area can be seen as they too keep an eye on the advancing carpet of gray. Zyrn confers with other learned men from the different villages but this is beyond them. Still no word from the rider he sent to the south, he can only watch and wait.
By the fifth day, no one bothers coming out with Zyrn. Talk of the area being cursed by the gods and other such nonsense has kept anyone else from even thinking about going out there.
In the late afternoon of the fifth day, he again goes out and marks the edge of the shimmering gray area. Four rings of swords now stand within its boundary, every ring marking a different day. Zyrn shakes his head, worried over where this might lead if nothing is done to curb its growth. But what can be done about it?
On his way back home, he tries to think about what could possibly halt the