The Star of Morcyth_ Book Five of the Morcyth Saga - Brian S. Pratt [151]
“I know what you’re going to say,” Dave begins before James has a chance to start. “I’m sorry, but it’s true. All they talk about is killing and death.”
“That’s not true,” counters James. “We are in the middle of a war. Those on the other side are continuously seeking to make our lives difficult in any way they can. Given the world in which these people have grown up, I think their responses are true to form.”
“But they’re going to get us all killed!” insists Dave.
“We could sit on our butts and that will still happen,” says James. “We grew up in a relatively safe environment where conflict to this degree simply was not a factor. If we were in one of our campaigns we used to play in the chess room, what would you be doing?”
Considering the question for a moment, he then says, “Probably arranging an attack to avoid possible future complications.”
“Remember,” James tells him, “this world is similar to that of our role playing, more so than I would have thought possible. That’s probably why the advertisement in the newspaper said role playing a plus.”
Nodding, Dave says, “I see your point. But I am still going to caution you against actions which I feel are wrong.”
Laying his hand on Dave’s shoulder he says, “I wouldn’t want you to do otherwise. I need a voice of reason in this chaotic and hostile world.”
Giving his friend a grin, he says, “You got it.”
“Now, let’s go back to the others,” suggests James. “And this time, don’t go calling them blood thirsty killers.”
“I won’t, promise,” Dave assures his friend.
As they’re walking back to the fire, a sound comes to them from the darkened town. A wailing sounds in the night as if a spirit is writhing in torment. They rush to the edge which overlooks the town and see a light atop one of the buildings. From this distance it’s hard to make out just what it is, but it looks to be the size of a man and it’s moving.
“What the heck is that?” Dave asks.
The others join them as he says, “I don’t know.”
“It’s a ghost!” Miko exclaims.
“Could be,” agrees James. Too bad Qyrll is missing this. He would’ve loved it.
The light continues to pace back and forth along the roof as the wailing continues. It lasts for ten minutes before the light and wailing disappear.
A hushed silence falls over the companions as they stand there in the dark and cold a moment. When it doesn’t look as if the spirit will be returning, they make their way back to camp.
As James takes his seat and begins warming his freezing hands, he considers the predicament they’re in. On the one side they have a hostile force most likely bent on their destruction. On the other is a city with free roaming spirits. At least the spirits mostly come out at night, mostly.
Chapter Twenty Eight
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It’s been over an hour since they left. Where are they? Pacing around, James is worried about what may have happened to them. To add more to his already worried mind the spirit from Ironhold makes two other appearances in different parts of town, always a lone spirit and always on top of a building.
No one is getting much sleep tonight, not with the racket going on when the spirit appears. It’s been twenty minutes or more since the last spectral appearance and a few of the others have fallen asleep. The only one other than himself who’s still awake is Miko. Try as he might, he can’t bring himself to relax enough to slip away.
James glances in his direction every once in awhile to see if he’s managed to fall asleep, and each time he sees his eyes wide open.
The silence of the night is broken by the sound of something moving toward the camp through the trees. Miko hears it too and sits up, his hand on the hilt of his sword which is resting on the ground next to him. He glances to James and begins getting up when Qyrll and Jiron enter the firelight.
“Glad you’re back,” James says in relief. “I was getting worried.”
“Sorry,” apologizes Jiron. “It took us some doing to move close enough for Qyrll to be able to understand what they were