Tides of Faith: Travail of The Dark Mage Book Two (34 page)

“Go ahead. Eat.”

When the young mage still hesitated,
James swallowed and said, “Is there something wrong with your
food?”

Azhan shook his head vigorously. “No,
Master. The food is most acceptable.” He stared at the food for
several moments, then glanced nervously at James. Raising the half
portion of dried apple, he continued staring at James as he took a
hesitant bite.

James grinned as he too nibbled on his
piece of dried apple. “Not bad, is it?”

Azhan nodded and took another bite.
The nervous hesitancy, the flicking of his eyes to and from James
in rapid succession, all gave the appearance that the young mage
expected some sort of reaction from his new “master.”

His actions were not lost on James.
Given the numerous bruises and scars marring his youthful skin,
James figured his life had not been a pleasant one. Coupled with
the stories being told about the Dark Mage, it was no wonder the
young man was wary. He gave Azhan a reassuring grin and continued
eating.

As the meal progressed, the young mage
gradually relaxed but never managed to completely be at ease. He
would jump and start whenever anyone would rise or walk
near.

Finally, after seeing him shy away
when Jiron came to his feet and walked passed on the way to the
horses, James asked, “What is life like for a mage in the
Empire?”

Wariness replaced apprehension for a
brief moment before turning into nervousness once again. “Not like
it was.”

“How do you mean?”

Azhan hesitated for a few seconds
before replying. “Before the war, we were treated with awe and
respect.” There was a touch of wistful sadness coloring his words.
“People feared us.”

“But not now?”

He shook his head. “There are very few
of any great ability remaining. Most are of the First and Second
Circles; meager in talent and more often than not, useless. Less
than a score remain within the Third and Fourth Circles. Of the
Masters, only two survived the war. One currently advises the
Emperor and never leaves Azzac.”

“And the other?” Jiron
asked.

Conversations faded away as everyone
listened to the young mage.

“I heard that a Warlord, I am not
certain which, offered an unbelievable amount of gold and stole him
away.”

Scar laughed. “I bet that made Cytok
mad.”

Azhan glanced to the Pit Master and
nodded. “He put a thousand gold piece bounty on the mage’s
head.”

Shorty whistled. “That’s quite a sum.
Anyone try to collect?”

“Against a Master Mage? None would
dare.” He turned his attention to James. “But you could,
Master.”

“Maybe so, Azhan. But I’m not
interested and I doubt that even if I presented Lord Cytok with his
head, I would receive any such reward for my trouble.”

“True enough,” Jiron agree with a
chuckle.

James grew thoughtful. He recalled the
numerous bruises and scars marring Azhan’s chest and back. “Life in
the patrol wasn’t pleasant, was it?”

Sadness and no small amount of shame
shadowed the young mage’s face. “No, Master.”

“Well,” he began, his voice softening,
“you won’t have to worry about that now.”

Azhan lowered his gaze; his whole
demeanor indicated that he didn’t believe it.

With the meal over, they resumed their
journey.

Sometime in the wee hours of the
morning, a signpost appeared from out of the moon-shrouded
landscape. The sign itself was comprised of three boards, each
bearing hastily scrawled lettering in the Empire’s
tongue.

Though the appearance of the signpost
itself, in an area far from any road, drew their interest, it was
the three human skulls resting against its base that caused them to
stop. There was just enough moonlight for the riders to distinguish
their unmistakable characteristics.

“What is this?”

Scar glanced back to James, who in
turn looked at Azhan. “Something we need to know?”

The mage hesitated only a moment
before replying, “No, Master.”

“He lies.”

No sooner had Miko announced the
mage’s duplicity than Tinok’s knife appeared. He took hold of the
mage’s tunic and laid the blade against his throat. “I knew we
couldn’t trust him.”

Father Vickor summoned the power of
Morcyth and his hand was enveloped with its white glow. The
emanating light allowed the sign to be seen in greater
detail.

“Look here.”

With his other hand, the priest
pointed to the sign’s lower left corner and the trio of dots
forming the points of a triangle with lines running between them
yet not touching. It was the symbol of Dmon-Li’s Warrior
Priests.

“He’s playing us for fools!” Tinok
exclaimed. The set of his face said he was prepared to end the
young mage’s life right then.

James held up his hand, “Wait.” To
Azhan he asked, “What is this?”

Gulping hard around the blade pressed
to his throat produced a drop of blood, Azhan worked to still his
fear of dying and spoke.

“Tapu is said to be cursed, Master.
The sign warns all travelers to go no further.”

“Cursed?” Scar snarled.

James waved for Tinok to move the
blade away. “Is this why the bridge is not guarded?”

Azhan nodded. “Yes,
Master.”

“What is the curse?”

“Some believe it is the manifestation
of the god Dmon-Li’s wrath for what happened during the war. Others
that it is a deviltry concocted by,” he glanced nervously to James,
“The Dark Mage, set to bring misery and suffering, for…that is
what…he likes to do to people.”

Looking disgusted, James shook his
head. “It wasn’t me. And just so you know, I do not like bringing
misery and suffering to others.”

“How does the curse
manifest?”

Turning to Miko, Azhan replied, “Loss
of strength, withering of flesh, and death.”

Scar cursed. “You didn’t think that
worth mentioning?”

Fear sprang anew upon the features of
the young mage; he remained silent.

“He plans to get us killed!” Shorty
exclaimed.

“No, Master!”

Returning his gaze to James, Azhan
emphatically shook his head. “That was not my
intention.”

“Then what was?” Father Vickor
asked.

Azhan remained silent.

“Well?” James asked.

Though fear was clearly etched upon
his young features, Azhan met his master’s gaze. “You needed a way
of crossing the Ti-Migala River that would allow you to avoid
detection. Every bridge is guarded; crossing at Tapu is the only
way.”

“Better to kill a few guards then risk
getting cursed.”

James glanced to Scar, then turned to
Miko.

“What do you think?”

Shrugging, Miko nodded to the sign.
“Something prompted them to post this.” He gazed off through the
darkness in the direction of Tapu. “I do not sense
anything.”

“Neither do I.”

Potbelly shifted in his saddle. “Maybe
it’s a curse that gets you only when you get close to
it.”

“Could be a proximity triggered
release,” agreed James. “Though I think the reason we can’t sense
anything is because we’re not close enough. We do have a High
Priest with us should this curse prove real.”

Scar didn’t look convinced. He
gestured to Miko. “No offense, but he’s a bit new at this whole
High Priest thing. This could be something beyond his ability to
handle.”

Father Vickor snorted.

“Our Reverend Father is more than
capable to deal with whatever may arise.”

Kip bristled a bit himself at the
thought that his High Priest was somehow inadequate.

“I’m sure,” James interjected before
things got heated, “that between Miko and I, we can deal with it.
Now, let’s proceed.”

Scar motioned for James to take the
lead.

“What,” chided Shorty, “scared of a
little curse?”

Flashing the knifer a glare filled
with ire, Scar shook his head. “It only seems prudent for James to
lead when there’s a likelihood of encountering magic.”

James nodded. “I agree.” Moving to
take the lead, he was joined by Miko.

“Let someone else eat dust for a
while.”

Chuckling, James rode past the sign
and headed for Tapu.

Father Vickor gave the sign one last
worried look before releasing the power of Morcyth, allowing the
shadows to return. He nudged his horse into motion. The dark
somehow felt more ominous than it had a moment before.

Despite James’ boast that he and Miko
could handle anything, it was with no small amount of trepidation
that he continued toward Tapu.

What was this
curse?
If it was bad enough for the Empire
to completely vacate a town and post warnings to keep others
away,
could
he
handle it?

Five minutes past the sign, his skin
began to tingle. A sidelong glance to Miko showed that he felt it
too.

“
Magic,” he whispered so as
not to alarm the others.

Miko nodded. “There is nothing malign
about it.”

“
Let’s hope it stays that
way.”

He continued leading their party
forward until a small, dark mass appeared out of the shadows.
Moving closer revealed it to be the remains of a wild dog, ones
that were common to the area. Even in the faint moonlight they
could see that its skin was shriveled tightly against its
bones.

Miko dismounted and knelt next to it.
He pointed toward the head. “Looks like it was trying to leave
Tapu.” Calling the power of Morcyth to him, he caused his hand to
glow, providing sufficient light for a more detailed
inspection.

Taking a stick from off the ground, he
turned the dog over.

“
No wounds. It appears to
have just up and died.”

A few pokes against the skin showed it
to be tough and leathery.

“
The curse get
it?”

Glancing up to Scar, Miko shrugged.
“Difficult to say.”

“
But it could
have.”

Nodding, Miko said, “Yes, Scar. Based
on the description of the curse Azhan gave us, it most definitely
could have.”

The Master of the Pit nervously
glanced to the shadows surrounding them.

“
We should head for the
bridge and put this accursed place behind us,” Potbelly
said.

Miko released the power and
mounted.

James glanced in the direction of the
river. “There’s no reason we have to go through Tapu.”

“
True,” agreed Miko.
“Following the river may be the prudent course of
action.”

“
Then let’s do
it.”

Moving from the road, James led them
toward the river. The tingling sensation remained constant. But
once they reached the water’s edge and made for the bridge, it
intensified.

Several minutes passed before Father
Vickor rubbed his arm and asked, “Do you feel that?” He glanced to
Father Keller.

“
Yes, I do,” agreed his
fellow priest.

“
It’s magic,” announced
James from the front. “It’s been with us for some time.”

“
Magic?” queried
Scar.

“
It’s not very strong,”
James assured. “Nothing to worry about.”

Scar snorted. “Nothing to worry about?
Try explaining that to the people who used to live
here.”

Potbelly nodded.

Surety laid in his words, not in his
heart as James continued leading the others along the riverbank.
The steadily increasing tingles running along his skin worried him
far more than he let on. Had the river been fordable, even if doing
so was taking a risk, he would have given up on trying to gain the
bridge and crossed right there. Unfortunately, the river was far
too deep for them to make the attempt. The bridge was the only way
across if they wished to remain unnoticed.

He scanned the distance ahead in an
attempt to determine how far they had yet to go in order to reach
the bridge. But all he could make out were periodic areas where
moonlight sparkled upon the water. The darkness maintained its hold
upon the location of the bridge and refused to give it
up.

“
If we don’t….” James began
just as a momentary surge of powerful magic emanated from somewhere
within the deserted town of Tapu.

Horses reared, men cried and Father
Vickor was thrown from his horse before it bolted off into the
night.

White light flared as the priests
summoned the power of Morcyth. Those still mounted managed to gain
control of their mounts.