Warrior Priest of Dmon-Li - Brian Pratt [195]
A shadow, some distance away, watches their camp as the night deepens. Once he realizes they are staying put for the night, the scout remounts his horse and rides back to the main party, some miles to the south.
Chapter Thirty Two
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As the eastern sky begins to dawn, they have a quick bite to eat before saddling the horses. “Should make Trendle sometime tomorrow,” Illan tells the rest of them.
He takes the lead as they move toward the pass entrance. Appearing out of the pass entrance before them are about twenty horsemen. One of the riders brings a horn to his lips and blares forth three quick notes. Answering horns can be heard sounding from all around them. Illan brings them to a stop.
“James,” Miko says as he brings his horse closer to his, “what’s happening?”
From all sides, horsemen appear. Jiron’s knife leaps into his good hand as he takes in the hundreds of approaching horsemen who’re moving to surround them.
Suddenly, a familiar tingling sensation begins to make itself known to James. He looks to the pass and sees four horsemen detach themselves from the others. They begin moving down to where James and the others wait. One of them is dressed in armor and a shudder goes through him when he recognizes him.
“Abula-Mazki!” he breathes.
“What?” Jiron asks.
Pointing to the riders coming from the pass, James says, “Abula-Mazki. It seems he didn’t die when the catacombs collapsed.”
“Who is he?” asks Jorry.
“A warrior priest of Dmon-Li,” he replies. “I thought we’d rid ourselves of him some time ago.”
The surrounding riders move to within a hundred yards before coming to a stop. James recognizes the Wolf Clan, as well as patterns of two other clans from the Gathering.
“How did they know to be here?” Miko asks.
“I don’t know,” replies James as he keeps his eye on the approaching warrior priest. The others with him look to be the chiefs of the clans, James recognizes them from when he’d been questioned before the council.
“It looks as if they wish to parley,” Illan says as he glances to James.
“Should we?” Jiron asks him. “I don’t trust him to be honorable.”
“No, I don’t either,” agrees James. “But if it holds off an immediate attack, perhaps I should go and see what he has to say.” Turning to Miko, he says, “You stay here.”
“Okay, James,” replies Miko.
As he moves out to meet with Abula-Mazki, Illan and Jiron join him. He can see that the warrior priest did not come away unscathed from his ordeal in the catacombs. His face is horribly marred and his armor looks to have been crushed and then reshaped. Strong indeed must the magic of Dmon-Li be to allow him to survive such punishment.
Both parties come to a stop once they’re ten feet away from each other. The Chief of the Grey Wolf clan looks with undisguised hatred at James.
“Abula-Mazki,” begins James. “What an unexpected pleasure.”
“I’ll make this simple,” the warrior priest says. “I want the one carrying the Star, the rest can go free. Resist, and you’ll all die!”
Pulling out the Star, he shows it to him and asks, “Why is this so troubling to you?”
Abula-Mazki’s eyes lock on the Star as he replies, “Priest of Morcyth, I’d strike you down now if I didn’t need you alive!”
James contemplates the situation quickly and comes to the conclusion that there’s no way their party will be able to withstand the combined might of the clan riders and the magic of Abula-Mazki. Either one by themselves, maybe, but not together.
Then an idea begins to form in his mind, one he doesn’t care too much for, but there may not be another way, “I have a proposition for you.”
“What is it?” Abula-Mazki asks.
“I propose we each chose a champion to decide the outcome,” explains James. “If yours wins, I go with you willingly. If mine wins, you allow us to continue, unhindered.”
A smile spreads across his face as Abula-Mazki listens to him. “Swear upon the Star, Priest of Morcyth, and I’ll agree to your proposal.”
Holding the Star high, James says, “I swear to go with the warrior priest Abula-Mazki should his champion