• Choose a category
• All
• Classic-Fiction

“Thank you,” says James.

“I’m glad I was able to fulfill the charge laid upon us,” he says as he slowly gets to his feet. “Probably be best if we don’t speak again.”

“Thank you again,” he says as the old guy walks back to the other slaves. He just nods his head in reply.

They move away from the window and further into the house where they can talk without running the risk of being heard by those outside.

“What do you think it means?” Jiron asks him once they’ve reached the inner room.

Excited, James replies, “The first verse has to refer to the Fire of Dmon-Li and the Star of Morcyth.”

Nodding, Jiron says, “Yeah, I figured that out already.”

“‘Time for the lost will soon be at hand’,” says James. “That I’m not sure of.”

“Could it mean the missing priests of Morcyth?” asks Jiron.

“Maybe,” he says, shrugging. “The rest of it doesn’t make much sense. But that’s the way with things like this. They can’t make sense until it’s time for them to make sense. Otherwise people will act prematurely.”

“Sounds reasonable,” comments Jiron. “So, is this what we came here for?”

“I would think so,” replies James. In his own mind, the feeling of completion is there. “It’s possible there could be more, but I doubt it.”

“Then we should get out of here,” states Jiron. “Better wait until it’s dark though and go back the way we came.”

“Wonder if the horses are still there?” says James.

“Doubt it,” he replies. “They’d be starving by now and probably have broken their tethers. We’ll have to see about getting some more after we get out of here.”

“Very well,” James says. “Best get some rest before we leave. Could be awhile before we get anymore.”

They move upstairs where the beds are and Jiron offers to take the first watch. While James is sleeping, he thinks about what they’ve just learned and tries to make sense out of it.

Chapter Eighteen

_________________________

James looks out of the second story window while Jiron is sleeping. The sun had long since fallen below the horizon and the city is shrouded in night. Off in the distance he can see the lights where the occupiers have taken up residence.

The words the old man had spoken keeps returning to him again and again. They make no sense, but like he told Jiron, that’s the way of these things. He was surprised to find what he came here for in the memory of an old man. But sitting here thinking about it, it makes a sort of sense.

If it had been hidden physically here in Saragon, then it would have needed to been marked in such a way that it would be recognized. That would’ve meant the Star of Morcyth symbol or something else which assuredly would’ve drawn the attention of those who know and understand the significance of such.

But to have it secreted in such a way that he practically had to stumble upon it, and to use a word only he or someone from his world would understand, enabled it to remain hidden all these years.

He can feel the hand of Igor in this. Just as he had trained Jiron and put him in a position to become part of his quest, so must he have also placed this snippet of information in the hands of the old guy’s family centuries ago. He can’t help but wonder if there may have been similar snippets left with different people here in Saragon in the hopes he would stumble across at least one of them. Maybe he’ll ask Igor the next time he sees him. Thinking back to the time he spent in that other world, dimension, whatever, he wonders if he’ll even have the chance. Igor may not have survived the attacks of those creatures.

A noise behind him causes him to turn where he sees Jiron getting up from the bed. Noticing how dark it is outside, he asks, “You ready to go?”

Coming away from the window, James says, “Yeah. Let’s get out of here.”

Stretching, Jiron begins to move out of the room and to the stairs leading down. He passes down the stairs then over to the doorway across from the collapsed, burned out structure. Beneath which lies the entrance to the secret smuggler passage they used to enter Saragon.