Chapter Twenty Two

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After they tie him securely, he’s put into the back of a nearby wagon along with the comatose James. The mage takes a seat in the front of the wagon with one of the soldiers next to him taking the reins. One soldier and crossbowman climb into the back of the wagon with their prisoners, the others mount awaiting horses. Then the soldier driving the wagon flicks the reins and the wagon begins rolling. Moving onto the road, they head down it toward the Madoc side.

Sitting in the back of the wagon as it rolls along, bumps making his position decidedly uncomfortable, Jiron keeps an eye on James. Other than the predicament they’re in, he seems okay. The soldiers and mage are silent as they roll along which suits him just fine. He tries to work the knot of his bonds loose but the soldier in the back with him notices and shakes his head. Seeing the implied threat in the man’s eyes, he stops.

They roll for another several hours before turning off the road. They follow a path which is little more than a game trail for another twenty minutes before arriving at a clearing where a camp has already been set up.

More soldiers are there as well as many slaves. How they managed to get all this here without being detected is something Jiron isn’t likely to find out anytime soon. Several tents dot the clearing as well as three other wagons. As they roll to a stop the mage gets down and says something to one of the soldiers before disappearing inside the largest tent which sits in the center of the clearing.

The soldier comes over to the side of the wagon and says to Jiron, “Come on down.”

Doing the best he can with his wrists tied behind him, he rises in the back of the wagon. Putting one foot on the edge he hops over to the ground below. The soldier and crossbowman in the back pick up James.

“This way,” the soldier says as he turns and leads him over to another smaller tent to the side. The two carrying James follow.

The other people in the camp pause in what they’re doing to stare at the new arrivals. Whispered mutterings can be heard throughout the clearing. As they approach the tent, one soldier holds open the flap as he and James are put inside. Then they proceed to remove all their items but the clothes on their backs.

Shortly after that a civilian and a slave enter and come over to where James is lying on the ground. The man is holding a vial in his hand and with the slave’s help, pours the contents into his mouth. After waiting several minutes to make sure it was swallowed, he and the slave leave.

Aside from a guard posted outside, they’re left pretty much alone. Jiron works at his bindings and finally gets them undone. He doesn’t bother trying to awaken James, he realizes that aside from the fact he probably wouldn’t wake up anyway, having again overextended himself with magic, he’s likely drugged as well.

Moving close to his friend, he checks to make sure he’s still breathing and otherwise okay. Then he sits back and waits for whatever their captors plan to do next. He has a pretty good idea of the layout of the camp and sits near the edge of the tent in order to attempt to keep track of what’s going on outside.

Not more than a half hour goes by before footsteps are heard approaching the tent. The flap is pulled aside and the mage enters followed by two soldiers. Once inside, the tent flap is again allowed to close.

The mage glances from the unconscious James to Jiron and notices he’s managed to remove his bindings. One soldier pulls his sword to keep Jiron at bay while the mage approaches James.

“Don’t touch him!” warns Jiron.

The soldier with the drawn sword comes forward and strikes him across the face with his other hand. “Impertinent dog!” he says derisively.

Kneeling down near James’ head, the mage lifts one eyelid and examines his eye for a moment before closing it. Returning to his feet, he glances again to James. “So, this is the mage causing the Empire so much trouble,” he says. He looks to Jiron as if for confirmation but Jiron remains silent.

“Doesn’t seem like much,” he continues, “but you two did defeat two of the Guardians.” He stands there, gaze boring into Jiron for a moment. “Now,” he finally continues, “tell me where the Fire lies?”

“Fire?” questions Jiron. “What’s that?”

A dark expression comes over the mage as he says, “Don’t take me for a fool, you know what it is. You and he have been together almost from the beginning.”

The beginning of what? Jiron questions to himself silently. He remains quiet and defiant.

“Tell me what I want to know!” he demands with more of an edge to his voice. When Jiron is again uncooperative, he raises his hand and pain flares throughout Jiron’s body.

Back arching and muscles contracting painfully, he clenches his teeth together and fights the urge to cry out. He doesn’t want to give them the satisfaction.

As quickly as the pain began it quits. “Now, my patience is beginning to wear thin,” the mage tells him. “Tell me where it is!”

Jiron raises his head and gazes into the mage’s eyes. Sweat beads his forehead and his breath is a little ragged from the excruciating pain he just endured. Giving no indication of compliance, he stares defiantly at the mage.

Raising his hand again, the mage causes pain to once more erupt along every nerve in his body. His muscles again contract painfully, almost to the point where they’ll begin breaking the bones they’re attached to.

Try as he might, he can’t keep a small gasp of pain from escaping. After what seems like an eternity, the pain stops and he flops back to the floor, eyes closed and breath coming in ragged gasps.

“This will only get worse if you do not tell me,” warns the mage. “And let me assure you, we have as long as it takes.” He then says something to one of the soldiers in their language. The soldier promptly leaves the tent and returns shortly with a chair for the mage. Taking his seat, he gazes down at Jiron who has managed to regain some of his composure. “Shall we begin again?” he asks.

Jiron just spits at him, the spittle managing to land on the hem of his robes.

The soldier closest to him strikes him across the face and begins yelling at him in their language.

“Enough,” the mage says and the soldier stops his tirade. Looking back to the mage, he sees him motioning for the soldier to move away from Jiron, which he does.

Holding his arm out, the pain once again flares along Jiron’s already flayed nerve endings. Back arching almost to the point of snapping his spine, he gnashes his jaws together to prevent the cry of pain from being torn from him.

“Tell me,” the mage says softly. “Tell me where the Fire is hidden and this will all end.”

Through an almost insurmountable obstacle of pain, Jiron cries out, “Never!”

Unrelenting, the mage sends wave after wave of pain through Jiron’s nervous system, each worse than the one before. Suddenly, one of the guards standing near the mage bumps into the mage and breaks his concentration ending the spell.

“Clumsy oaf!” the mage screams to the man as the backlash of magic burns through him. Pushing the man away, his anger slowly turns to puzzlement as the man staggers a moment and then falls face down. Protruding from his back is the back half of an arrow.

No sooner has the soldier hit the ground than the tent flap is pulled aside and another soldier begins talking rapidly to the mage. From outside the tent screams and the clash of swords can be heard. Then the soldier at the tent flap suddenly jerks upright and falls to the ground, two arrows embedded in his back.

The mage gets to his feet, points to Jiron and James as he says a few words to the remaining guard and then hurries from the tent.

Jiron lays there, the residual pain coursing through him beginning to subside. Outside he hears explosions from magic the mage is wielding against whoever is attacking. The remaining guard is at the tent flap peering out, occasionally glancing back to make sure Jiron isn’t trying anything.

As he lays there, strength beginning to return from the torture of the mage, he looks to the soldier peering outside. While his attention is focused on the events unfolding outside the tent, Jiron tries working his muscles to be sure they’re okay. From the beating he took from the mage, he wasn’t sure if anything permanent had been done. After a few minutes he’s sure all is well, the pain must have been more in his mind than physical in nature. Things like that were mentioned in some of the old sagas he used to listen to growing up.

He feigns docility as the soldier turns to glance back toward him. Outside, the clash of arms continues as does the explosions from the mage. Men are screaming and crying battle cries. One battle cry he recognizes is that of Madoc, it must be men from there who are attacking the camp.

At first he thought it might have been Fifer and the others but then realized there would have been no way for them to reach here so fast. They have to be at least a day or two behind, coming on foot as they are.

Once the soldier makes sure that Jiron remains passive on the ground, he turns back to the events unfolding outside.

Moving slowly, Jiron quietly begins getting up off the ground. Just as he’s reached a crouched position, James lets out with a groan which draws the attention of the soldier back to the inside of the tent. Gasping at seeing Jiron there ready to attack, he hollers out for help as he draws his sword.

When James groaned, Jiron’s heart sank as the man turned to look at him there ready to pounce. Moving quickly, he grabs the chair the mage had used and barely blocks the strike of the soldier. Chips fly as the blade hacks out a section of a leg.

Not giving the man a chance for a second swing. Jiron immediately closes with him, pushing the chair toward him and running him into the side of the tent. The resulting impact brings the tent down and the man’s sword becomes entangled in the loose folds of the collapsing tent.

Jiron quickly grabs the soldier’s swordarm and rams his knee into the man’s middle. The soldier’s other fist lashes out and catches Jiron across the jaw but has little effect as he didn’t have leverage to put much power behind it.

His knee comes up and catches the soldier in the groin causing him to freeze immobile for a brief moment, which allows Jiron to elbow him across the throat, smashing his windpipe. The man begins gagging in a vain attempt to breathe but his compacted windpipe starts to swell from the blow and he soon passes out from lack of oxygen.

Taking the man’s sword, Jiron crawls through the collapsed tent until he reaches James. “James!” he whispers urgently. “Wake up!” His eyes flutter open and he mumbles something incoherently. Whatever they had given him still keeps him from functioning properly.

“Damn!” he curses as he turns onto his back and thrusts the sword upward through the tent material. Sawing with the sword, he quickly cuts a three foot slit and pokes his head out to see how the battle’s going on outside.

The men from Madoc have the numbers but the Empire’s mage is taking them out readily enough. Arrows fly toward the mage but none reach their mark, he has a barrier surrounding him similar to the one James utilizes. So far no one has taken any notice of the collapsing of the tent, so intent are they on the attackers.

Jiron uses his hands and widens the gap further and slips outside. Reaching back in, he uncovers James and then looks around for an escape route. Over by the main tent are several horses, fortunately still saddled. The Empire’s forces are over to the far side where the attackers from Madoc are mostly concentrated.

Hoping that his mistreated muscles will bear the weight he reaches down, lifts James over his shoulder and begins carrying him toward the horses. The sound of swords clashing and the cries of men caught within terrible magic resound throughout the clearing.

The gloom of twilight lends an eerie feel to the proceedings but gives Jiron the shelter he needs to remain unobserved as he crosses over to the awaiting horses. Once he’s reached them, he puts James over one and begins to secure him on.

“Jiron,” he hears him say as he’s tying his hands and feet together with a rope looped under the belly of the horse.

Moving to where his head hangs, he hears James ask, “What happened?”

“Captured by Empire soldiers,” he replies. “They took all our stuff and we’re getting out of here.”

“My crystals?” he asks.

“I don’t know,” he says as he cinches the last knot tight. Jerking his head toward the main tent they’re next to he adds, “Maybe in there. Do you need them?”

Shaking his head, he says, “As we leave, take me closer.”

Mounting the horse next to him he asks, “Why?”

“Just do it,” he says.

“Alright but we don’t have much time to waste,” Jiron tells him. Looking around, he can tell the battle is going badly for the men from Madoc. The Empire’s mage has all but wiped them out.

“Don’t need much,” he says.

As he takes the reins of James’ horse in hand, a cry arises nearby and he looks to see one of the Empire’s soldiers pointing in their direction and shouting. The mage turns and sees them on the horses, then pain suddenly erupts in Jiron’s middle and he almost falls off the horse. Bringing them close to the tent he says through the pain, “We’re here.”

In a voice cracking, speech slightly blurred, he says as loud as he can, “Spoilsport! Act Three! Fifteen!” As he utters the last word he can feel power being drawn from him by the crystal within the tent. Even Jiron notices as what little power he has is being pulled into it as well. To Jiron he says, “We haven’t much time.”

That’s all he needed to hear. Kicking his horse in the sides, he races toward the edge of the clearing, bowling over several soldiers in the process. The pain ripping through his middle increases dramatically and it’s all he can do simply to remain in the saddle and hold onto the reins to James’ horse.

Bolts start flying as crossbowmen begin taking shot at the fleeing duo but miss as Jiron dodges their horses this way and that to avoid the flying bolts. The Empire’s mage turns from the remnants of the Madoc attack force and moves quickly toward them, all the while maintaining the pain wracking Jiron’s body.

When he nears the main tent wherein the crystals lay, the effects of his spell on Jiron diminishes as his power begins to be drained as well. That’s when he takes note of what’s transpiring within the tent.

As the pain begins to ease up, Jiron looks back as he leaves the clearing and sees the mage beginning to enter the tent. From beside him, he can hear James counting, “…thirteen…fourteen…fif…” Before he can finish the word, a massive explosion rips through the tent and engulfs a good portion of the clearing. The concussion from the blast rolls over them and the horses stumble a moment. Jiron fears they may go down but they manage to right themselves and race to leave the destruction behind them.

“What was that?” Dave exclaims from where he and the others are beginning to make camp for the night.

Off to the east thunder rolls as a fiery blast is seen reaching to the sky many miles away. “That had to be James,” Miko replies anxiously. “He must be in trouble.”

A clatter of wood comes from the side of the camp where Fifer was bringing some back for the evening fire. “No resting tonight,” he says as glances around at all the faces. “He needs us.”

Not one person gainsays him. The plans to make camp and continue in the morning are set aside as they begin to hustle down the road in the fading light.

Jiron continues riding well into the night. Even though that blast most likely took out the mage and most of the others, he dares not stop. At one point James indicates he can ride and after a short stop to untie him and help him into the saddle, they continue down the road.

“You okay?” he asks him once they’ve resumed riding.

“Not great,” he replies. “Head still spins and doubt if I could do any magic for awhile, but other than that I think I’ll live.”

“What did you do back at the camp?” Jiron asks.

James glances at him and flashes him a grin. “Set a time bomb.”

“A time bomb?” he asks, never having heard the expression before.

“That’s right,” he replies. “Don’t ask me to explain, there are certain things I would rather not introduce to this world.”

“Why?” he asks in confusion.

“Let’s just say if the wrong people here come to know all that I do, it could lead to some very unpleasant things happening,” he explains. When Jiron turns to look at him, he gives his friend a serious look which says there’s no point in pursuing this any longer.

“As you wish,” he finally says. They ride on in silence for awhile as Jiron’s mind mulls over what he just said. He wonders what more James is capable of.

Another hour finds them coming to a river which exits from a break in the mountain and joins the road as it follows it down the side of the mountain to Madoc. James indicates they should pull off the road and make camp.

Moving far enough through the trees so that anyone passing by will unlikely be able to see them, they stop and set about making camp. James is all but exhausted, still not having recovered fully from the fight with the creatures and the effects of whatever was in the vial. Jiron offers to watch while he sleeps and he’s in no position to deny him. He no sooner lays his head on his arm than he’s out.

Awakening in the morning, he finds Jiron has managed to catch, clean and cook a small animal for their breakfast. “Hungry?” he asks from where he sits at the fire. Next to him is a pile of leaves with James’ portion lying upon it.

“Man you know it,” he says as he gets to his feet and comes over. Shivering from the cold of the mountains, he readily moves closer to the fire. Jiron hands him the leaves with his food. “Thanks.”

“No problem,” Jiron replies. “Thought you might need it.”

After taking a bite, he sits there a moment chewing before he asks, “Do you think it wise to have a fire? Won’t it attract anyone in the area?”

Shrugging, he says, “You need it. Besides, that explosion had to have taken out most if not all the soldiers back there. Anyone else it might attract would probably be from Madoc.”

“Perhaps,” he replies. Then the memory of those two creatures comes to mind and he’s not so sure. He sits there and contemplates them, what they were and so forth. That’s when he notices Jiron’s knife sheathes are empty. “They took your knives?” he asks.

Nodding, Jiron says, “They took everything. After I killed the last of those creatures they showed up and took us to their camp. Thanks for those ice knives.”

James looks at him questioningly, “Ice knives?”

“Yeah,” he says. “After you passed out and the remaining creature crashed through the ice which had formed on the barrier, I saw two knives lying there on the ground. Thought you had made them.”

Thinking back, he vaguely remembers something about that. “Don’t recall doing that, but maybe. My memory is sort of hazy from then.”

“Understandable,” he says. “But irregardless, those ice knives did the trick. Where mine were ineffective, those worked perfectly.”

James sits there chewing as he attempts to recall exactly what happened but the memories of that time are still a bit foggy. Perhaps they’ll come back later. He does remember what he realized about those creatures, that they were creatures of fire. It stands to reason then that ice knives would have more of an effect upon them.

“You said those creatures weren’t entirely real,” Jiron says. “What did you mean by that?”

“One of the theories about the universe is that there are many levels,” he explains. “According to that theory the plane of existence we live upon is simply one among many. Some hold to the belief that there are planes of existence where fire, air, earth and water rule. This one we live on would be considered a sort of centralized one where each of the four has an equal footing. Each one has an opposite, the creatures of fire for example are hurt most by forces made up of water or ice.”

Jiron nods as he begins to understand, though is still having a hard time with the concepts.

“Gods and those associated with them live on yet another plane, one more removed from that of the elements. I’ll not even get into the theory of alternate reality and the fourth dimension. Those even stymie many of the great thinkers of my world.” Great thinkers, right! More like a bunch of kids in some backroom role playing. He smiles at the thought. These were just the sort of discussions he, Dave and the others used to have on a regular basis.

“How many planes are there?” Jiron asks.

Shrugging, James says “Who knows? Now all this still may be only conjecture and not fact. It’s just that after seeing those two creatures earlier brought it to mind. We may never learn one way or another.” Of course Igor and Morcyth have to come from somewhere don’t they?

James finishes the last of the roasted animal and gets up to go over to a stream where he takes several deep drinks. After that they put out the fire and remount to continue heading down the mountain.

The next several hours find them coming to the foothills at the base of the mountains and after cresting one such hill can see the plains open up below them. Several miles further ahead, smoke rises from a town nestled in among the hills. The road they’re on continues toward it and then through it as it disappears into the horizon to the east. Another road runs along the base of the mountains moving north and south.

“Think Kerrin and Gayle are there?” Jiron asks indicating the town ahead of them.

“They had to pass through in any event,” replies James. “We’ll ask around when we get there and see if we can discover anything.”

“Can you do that mirror thing?” he asks.

“Possibly,” he replies. “I’ll worry about that when we get there, should we be unable to locate them.”

Nodding, Jiron kicks his horse and they hurry along down the road.