Tides of Faith: Travail of The Dark Mage Book Two (11 page)

Miko glanced to the board. Instead of
moving the endangered, Dagger, he moved a triple-stacked Long
Dagger to the space next to Kip’s sole remaining Bone.
“Concede?”

Staring intently at the board, Kip
took in his two Daggers and Miko’s five multiple-stacked Long
Daggers. Sighing, he signaled capitulation by flipping over his
Bone. “Yes.”

“Good game.”

From Kip’s expression, he hardly
shared that sentiment. “Yes, Reverend Father. Good
game.”

Miko smiled and tousled the young
novice’s hair. “Time for bed.”

Kip merely nodded as he gathered the
pieces and placed them in their holding bag. Taking the bag and
board, he crossed over to his cot and slid them both
beneath.

Turning his attention to the pacing
Jiron, Miko said, “You may as well turn in. Father Tullin often
returns late after visiting the Pits.”

Jiron’s face pursed.

“Pace if you must,” James
said with a yawn. “As for me, I think I’ll take the
Reverend Father’s
advice.”

Miko rolled his eyes. He hated to be
called that, especially by those he knew before being elevated to
his current station.

James merely chuckled.

“I shall send Father Vickor in to town
to see if he can learn anything.”

Jiron’s expression softened somewhat.
“I appreciate that.”

Nodding, Miko rose to his feet and
turned to the door. “Until the morning.”

As he moved to leave, Father Keller
said his goodbyes as well and followed him out.

Once the door closed, Jiron settled
upon his cot and turned to face James. “It’s a good thing we were
there tonight.”

James nodded. “If we hadn’t, Tinok
would most likely be dead.”

“Thank you for that.”

“Hey, no problem. I’m surprised no one
caught on to that mage’s interference before this.”

Jiron chuckled. “I doubt if he will
try again in this city.”

“One never knows.”

Giving a yawn, James rolled onto his
back and closed his eyes.

It took a bit longer for Jiron to
succumb to sleep’s embrace, his mind running through the battle
over and over. There were several errors that Tinok should never
had made, ones that would have brought the battle to a much faster
ending. But then, Tinok was playing for the crowd. An odd thing,
that. He had never done anything like that before. All he could
think of was perhaps Scar or Potbelly suggested him to do such when
faced with a sure win. If that was the case, he’d have to have a
talk with the new Masters of the Pit should their paths ever cross
again. Those antics had almost cost Tinok his life.

The room grew quiet as the grownups
drifted off to sleep. Small ears lifted for the tell-tale sound of
her father’s snores. Once they had continued unabated for five
counts of a ten, Jira lifted her head and looked around. Upon
seeing her father, uncle, and Kip fast asleep, she
grinned.

It was about time!
It had been a struggle to feign sleep for so long,
but now she could reap the rewards.

From beneath her pillow, she took a
small chunk of bread, a slice of cheese the size of her finger, and
half an apple; bounties secreted away after her and Kip’s
late-night snack. Also from beneath her pillow came the stub of a
candle. She had snatched it when Kip replaced it earlier in the
evening.

Ever so gingerly, she sat up on the
edge of her cot. After double-checking to ensure the others
remained asleep, she took the candle stub and hopped onto the
floor.

Quiet feet raced across the coldness
of the stone floor toward where the lone candle burned by the door.
There she lit her stubby candle and returned to her cot. A noise
from her uncle stopped her in her tracks. Fearing discovery, she
quickly realized he had merely snorted.

Moving around her cot, she set the
candle stub against the wall, then ever so carefully, turned her
cot on its side. For a girl of her age, it was quite a feat to do
quietly, but she managed. Once it rested on its side, she rewarded
herself with a grin, then sat in the sheltered space betwixt the
wall and the cot.

On the floor at one end of the cot,
she arrayed the items of food in what she felt would be a pleasing
pattern. She planned on seeing an earth spirit this night. Twice
before they had taken her offerings; this time, she hoped to catch
them in the act.

She placed the candle in the center of
the enclosed area before taking her place at the other end of the
cot. It didn’t take long before the chilly stone floor made her
bottom cold. Jira remedied this by folding her blanket in half and
placing it beneath her.

Time passed.

The candle burned lower and still the
Little Brothers had yet to appear. Her eyes drooped, but she
refused to yield to sleep’s call. Singing helped. Of course, her
singing was more of a whispered remembrance of an actual song since
she didn’t wish to alert any of the adults as to what she was
doing. They wouldn’t understand and she was certain their presence
would keep the earth spirits away.

Pausing in her song, Jira poked her
head up over the edge of the cot and scanned the room. “Come on,
Little Brothers. I have some goodies for you.”

Returning to her place on the blanket,
she began a little nonsensical, made-up song about a frog. As she
sang, she slowly rocked back and forth. It wasn’t so much a
conscious act, more of an unconscious one that worked to keep her
awake. Sleep grew ever more insistent, and she hoped that the
Little Brothers would appear soon.

Tired of frogs, she sang of her
mother. It was more spoken words with a backdrop of melody than an
actual song. Her thoughts drifted along favored memories; thoughts
of times with her mother, good times, created an influx of warmth
and love that filled her. How she missed her mother. It would be
soon, very soon, and they would be reunited again.

A tear formed and tried to
make its way down her cheek, but a quick swipe with the back of her
hand brought a swift end to the liquid’s mission.
She was a big girl!
And
big girls did not cry
, or so her father had
said.

The barest hint of movement by the
scraps of food snapped her out of her reverie. At first not sure
that she had seen anything at all, she said, “It’s okay. The food
is for you.”

Excitement stilled her melody as she
searched for further signs that an earth spirit was present. When
after several minutes of wistful waiting, a small arm emerged from
behind the end of the cot and reached for the cheese, an
uncontrollable burst of eagerness caused her to vocalize a small
squeal. Instantly, the arm shot back and disappeared.

Fearing to have wrecked it all, she
said in the most calming and soothing voice she could muster, “No.
It’s okay. It’s okay Little Brother. I am your friend.”

Heartbeats passed and the
arm failed to return.
But it had been
there!
All vestiges of sleep had fled. An
earth spirit had come. Now, could she get it to return?

Keeping as still as she could, gaze
locked on the spot where the arm had previously appeared, Jira
began to hum. Time passed, not a great deal in the grand scheme of
things, but an eternity for a girl who never had much patience to
begin with.

When the arm reappeared, the same
excitement once more threatened to undo everything. Willing it into
oblivion, she remained still and quiet as the arm stretched farther
toward the bit of cheese. Just before the outstretching digits
connected with the offering, the earth spirit peered around the
cot.

Their eyes met and for a brief moment,
Jira thought it would flee. She desperately wanted to assure it
that she meant no harm, but feared any motion or sound would scare
it away. Even her eyes remained motionless, locked onto those of
the Little Brother as they were.

Watching its timid
movements, she noticed a dark patch in the shape of a crescent moon
around the outer edge of its left eye. She smiled, but quickly
returned her face to normal when her facial alteration caused it to
freeze.
Come on, Little Brother. It’s
okay.

It must have sensed no danger for it
moved out from behind the cot, snatched the piece of cheese, and
vanished.

Unable to quell the urge, a squeal of
delight escaped her. Clapping her hands together quietly, she moved
to the far end of her hidden area between the cot and wall to move
a piece of fruit closer to where the earth spirit had
emerged.

Returning to her position at the other
end, she waited.

“Jira!”

Snapping awake, Jira discovered that
she had fallen asleep on the floor behind her cot. Panic filled her
and she looked up to see her father’s amused expression.

“What, was your cot too soft for
you?”

She shook her head. “N…no.”

Jiron reached down and picked up his
daughter. “It’s time to eat.”

Before her father carried her to the
food-laden table, she snatched a quick glance toward the far end of
her hidden area. The floor was bare. Every last crumb had been
removed. She couldn’t help but grin.

The rest of the day proceeded in
boring monotony. Jira played Bones and Daggers with Kip, Jiron
paced with worry about Tinok, and James wiled away the time
searching for information via his farseeing spell.

First order of business was to ensure
the families were fine. Jira clapped happily when she saw her
mother walking with Meliana and Kenny along the beach. Another two
ladies walked with them, one of which James vaguely remembered from
the one time he, Miko and Jiron had visited Corillian, possibly
being a servant of Meliana’s family.

From there, he sought Tinok. He was
with the man from the Empire, the same one in whose company he had
been when last they sought him. They sat at a table drinking ale,
the remnants of a meal upon the table. Tinok looked relaxed and the
other man appeared amused.

There had yet been word from Father
Tullin about what he may have learned at the Pits after James and
Jiron left. Jiron was all for setting out in search of the priest,
but Miko assured him that he would pass on any and all information
upon Father Tullin’s return.

Father Vickor had learned little on
his foray into the streets. All he discovered was that the man was
a caravan guard and that the caravan was due to depart in two days.
They wondered what interest Tinok could have with a caravan guard.
Everything they learned created more questions with little answers
in return.

Once Jiron had been satisfied, or at
least realizing there was nothing else to learn by watching Tinok
sit at a table and drink, James turned his attention to his island.
The manor house remained quiet and undisturbed. Scanning the island
turned up little that he hadn’t already learned.

Canceling the image in the hand-held
mirror Miko had given him, James lay back on his cot and closed his
eyes. Why can’t people leave him alone? He left The Ranch because
of lack of privacy. Now his island was attacked. What was he to do,
make his name so infamous, so notorious for ill deeds that no one
would dare wish to disturb him again?

He could well understand how villains
grew to become that way. Could it be because no one would leave
them alone? That instead of live and let be, people kept at them
until their only recourse was massive retaliation? Of course, such
actions never brought about their desired ends. People only grew
more afraid, and what people feared, they worked to
destroy.

A simple life on a remote island
surrounded by waters infested with pirates. Where else could he go
to avoid future complications? The moon? He chuckled for he knew
that the moon would be a harsh mistress indeed.

No, he wouldn’t go to the moon. He
would instead find the source of the invaders. Discover who it was
that prompted the invasion and deal with them. If Lord Cytok was in
fact behind this, then there would be one less faction vying for
Empirical dominance.

There was precious little for him to
go on; the invaders wore Empire armor, arrived on an Empire ship.
Except for the mage, everything pointed to the Empire. The mage was
the key, of that he was certain. The men could have been
mercenaries. They had to have come from somewhere.

But the mage. Now there was someone
who had tremendous amounts of power at his beck and call. In his
mind’s eye, he recalled the battle. Everything he tried, the mage
had countered with ease. It didn’t even seem like he slowed the
mage down at all. Find that mage, and he would have his answers.
But how?

Miko entered in the late afternoon
with Father Tullin in tow. Eyes half-lidded and downcast, the
priest appeared to suffer from one dilly of a hangover.

Jiron hopped from where he sat
watching his daughter’s disastrous attempt to win against Kip. The
novice had a better head for the game, but she was a quick learner.
Plus, Jiron made it known that trouncing his daughter unmercilessly
would garner certain repercussions. “Let her win one or two,” he
had said and Kip readily acquiesced.