Brian Pratt - The mists of sorrow

One of the slaves further back in the warehouse has dropped his box and is now lying on the ground holding his leg. The way he’s holding his leg and crying out, James thinks that it may be broken.

Then from out of nowhere two slaves come and immediately take the crate from them and continue hauling it out to the waiting wagons. Startled by their sudden appearance, James doesn’t immediately realize the young man has turned and is walking quickly toward a stack of boxes sitting at the rear of the warehouse. Seeing him moving away from him, James quickly moves to follow. He casts a quick glance to the man in charge of the slaves and sees how his attention is now fully on the slave lying with the broken leg. From the set of the man’s face, he feels sorry for the fate of the slave.

Half a minute later, they squeeze through a gap between the stacks of boxes. Sidestepping, James passes through and comes to a small cleared space between the stacks of boxes and the rear wall of the warehouse.

Moving to a set of three boxes, two set side by side and the third on top of the other two, the young man says, “Give me a hand.”

James comes forward and the young man has him grip the stack of three boxes in two specific spots. Then together, they lift the edge of the boxes up. The edge comes up to reveal that the three boxes are secured to the top of a trapdoor. Once the trapdoor is raised sufficiently, the young man has James pass through first. There’s a drop of three feet and then a series of steps leading down into darkness.

James hops down onto the steps and holds the trapdoor open while the young man hops down beside him. Together they lower the trapdoor and are plunged into darkness. James has an urge to create an orb, but resists it. The last thing he wants to do is to let whoever is down here know what he’s capable of. Keeping that information secret has proved beneficial on several different occasions.

Once the sound of the young man moving down the steps comes to him, he slowly follows. Step by step, he descends ten steps before coming to a narrow passage. Keeping a hand on one wall as a guide, he walks forward, all the while allowing the sound of the young man’s footsteps to lead him.

“Where…?” he begins when the young man’s voice says cuts him off with “Keep quiet!” So keeping quiet, he continues to follow him. At one point, the passage they are in makes a sharp turn to the right. James didn’t realize it quickly enough and wound up stubbing his toe on the wall in front of him.

“Shhh!” the young man whispers when James began cursing his throbbing toe.

After that, he kept one hand out in front of him as well as the one to the side. A good thing he did for it saved his toes another stubbing when the passage abruptly curved back to the left. A faint light can now be seen coming from further down this new passage. It steadily grows brighter as they move toward it until James recognizes that the light is making its way through the cracks around a door.

He quickens his pace when he sees the young man is already at the doorway. Light floods the passage as the door is opened and he has to squint for a few seconds until his eyes get readjusted to the light. Moving out of the passage, James enters what appears to be an ordinary cellar beneath some building.

Two other men are in the room, both dressed as slaves. One of them is the same slave as Scar and Potbelly had nabbed keeping an eye on them in the hallway outside their room.

“Go on in,” the slave says to the young man.

Without a word, the young man steps toward the opening on the far side of the cellar. An archway separates the room they are in with the one lying on the far side. Many candles are lit within the next room and as James passes through the archway, he sees a middle aged man lying on a series of cushions upon a rug on the floor.

“I brought him,” the young man says to the other.

“Leave us,” the man on the cushions says.

Bowing to him, the young man backs out through the archway.

Indicating a cushion sitting on the floor near him, the man says, “Please be seated.”

“Thank you,” replies James. Moving to the cushion, he settles down on top of it.

“It’s not often I have guests here,” the man tells him. Lifting up a plate bearing slightly squishy sliced fruit that’s turning brown, he offers it to James.

Really not wanting any of the old fruit, yet not wishing to offend his host, he takes one. Placing it in his mouth, he chews it and can taste the slight rancidity of spoiled fruit. “Thank you,” he says as he tries to swallow without spewing it back up again.

The man smiles and nods. “A pleasure to meet one such as you,” he says.

James arcs an eye questioningly at him. “Oh, I know who you are,” he explains. “James I believe your name is. And a mage of some power.”

James eyes him suspiciously and remains silent.

“Oh you needn’t try to hide the fact,” he says. “But who you are doesn’t really matter now does it? You wanted some information I believe?”

“Who are you?” James asks.

“Ah, that is a question many would like to know,” he replies. “Suffice it to say that I am the Slavemaster.”

“Slavemaster?” asks James.

“More of a title than a profession really,” he says.

“I see,” says James.

Without expanding any further on who he is, the Slavemaster says, “I understand you are planning on entering the temple here in Zixtyn.”

“That’s right,” he says. James is more at ease now. Seeing as how the man knows him and has yet to either dispatch him or turn him in, he doesn’t feel there is any immediate threat.

“Why?” the Slavemaster asks. “You’ll have to pardon my curiosity, but you are the first person I’ve ever met who actually wanted to go into one. Other than Dmon-Li’s priesthood that is.”

James gazes at the Slavemaster and gauges just how much to tell him. “Can you help us gain entry?” he asks.

“Possibly,” he replies. “You see, I’m the only one that I know of who was ever a slave within the temple and escaped. But that was some time ago, when I was a younger man.”

“The one here in Zixtyn?” James asks hopefully.

The Slavemaster shrugs, obviously unwilling to give him that much information about himself. “So why do you wish to gain entry into the temple here in Zixtyn? I assure you, what you tell me will not find its way out of here.”

Deciding to trust to fate, he says, “A friend has been taken to Ith-Zirul. We know there’s a way that the temples, or at least some of them, are connected through magical transportation devices.”

The Slavemaster shakes his head, “Friend, what you plan is nothing short of folly.”

“Be that as it may, that is what we plan to do,” he insists. “Can you help us?”

“Even should you gain the temple and reach the transportation device, you wouldn’t be able to use it,” he asserts.

“Then you know of it?” asks James hopefully.

“Yes,” he says. “I know of it.”

“Can you tell me how it works?” he asks.

“You mean to tell me that you planned to break into the temple and didn’t even know how it worked?” he asks incredulously.

“I have an idea,” replies James defensively.

“You need more than that if you expect to get to Ith-Zirul,” the Slavemaster tells him. “They won’t work for just anyone, you need a key.”

“I have one of those already,” explains James.

“Oh?” he asks. “How would you have gained such an item?”

James then gives him a very brief rundown of finding the medallion in the temple outside of Kern. “I know it activates the dais,” he states. “I’m just not sure how to make it take me to where I want it to.”