Brian Pratt - The mists of sorrow

“I don’t think he’s ever been on a bed before,” Brother Willim replies. “At least other than with Aleya.”

“As long as he’s comfortable,” James says. “Try to get some rest. We’ll be leaving tomorrow night.” They both nod and as he closes the door, resume their discussion. Too much is on his mind as he makes his way down to his room. What will tomorrow hold? Will they be successful? And what may await them should they manage to reach the teleportation dais here in Zixtyn and make it to the High Temple?

Once within his room he undresses for bed and his eye catches sight of the barest sliver of a moon out his window. Tomorrow night will be when Killian’s Shroud blinds the giant’s eye. A shiver runs through him as he turns away from the window and climbs into bed.

Since they were first brought here to this dark cold place, the daily routine has been just that, routine. Three meals a day, a new slops bucket twice a day and the continual appearances by those strange little creatures who like so much to stare at them. Only once had the routine ever changed.

A man had grown sick. Tinok didn’t know the man and he was being kept in the cell adjacent to his, but one day the man started coughing. Nothing serious, just a cough every now and then. Perhaps it was due to the cold, the inactivity, or something else, but the cough progressively worsened over the course of two sleep periods. With no way to tell time, Tinok has grown to judge it by the times when he sleeps.

After the second sleep period, one of the cowled figures appeared and moved to the cell containing the sick man. The cowled figure then opened the cell and entered. Moving across to where the man was lying on the cold stone floor, it stopped next to him.

A hand, rather emaciated with the skin tightly stretched around the bones beneath, emerges from the robe’s sleeve. A small flask is gripped by the hand and is brought forward to the man. The poor guy is now trying in vain to scoot away but another hand emerges from the other sleeve and grabs him.

The man panics and his coughing fit increases badly as he struggles against the hand holding him still. Then a word is uttered by the cowled figure and the man suddenly grows quiet and still. Once he’s completely quieted down, the hand holding the flask put it to the man’s mouth and poured its contents between his lips. Unable to do otherwise, the man swallowed the liquid.

Standing up, the cowled figure turned toward the door and left. During this time, not a single prisoner within the cell the cowled figure entered tried to escape or fight. Maybe it was the feel of the place or the uncertainty that escape would even be possible, but they remained where they were.

Shortly after the door shut and the cowled figure departed, the man was able to move again. Several hours later, his cough cleared up and he felt well. Whatever that stuff was that was poured into him, it definitely cured him.

That was many sleep periods ago. And from that time to now, there was only the routine. Today however, things felt different. There was an urgency in the air that wasn’t there before. A feeling that something was going to happen and that it wasn’t going to be good.

Also, the little creatures that had been such constant companions since they first arrived, are absent. After their second meal of the day was brought and consumed, the man in armor again appears. Four of the cowled figures accompany him. They begin to open the cell doors and have those within come out.

“Man I don’t like this,” says Esix as he and Tinok, along with the others in their cell, are brought out to stand with the others.

What Tinok wouldn’t give to have his knives in his hand once again. “I don’t either,” he replies.

They’re lined up and then the warrior priest begins leading them down the passage. Going in the opposite direction than that which they did in coming here, they move along until they come to a steep stairwell leading down. The warrior priest enters the stairwell and begins descending the steps.

“Where are they taking us?” Esix asks.

“Nowhere good I’m sure,” Tinok whispers back.

What dim light there had been in the cell area is all but nonexistent as they enter the stairs. With barely enough light to see the person before them, they follow cautiously as they descend down the steps.

Moving straight down, the stairs come to an area where the wall on their right suddenly ends. Unable to see any great distance, they have the feeling that where they’ve entered is a large underground cavern. The echoes of their footfalls give them that feeling more than anything else.

When at last they come to the end of the stairs, the warrior priest turns around and begins following the wall beneath the stairs they just came down. As they continue to follow the warrior priest, fear begins to grow in their hearts. The source of the fear isn’t apparent, but Tinok can’t help but stare into the darkness of the cavern. Beyond all reason, the source of the fear comes from there.

Behind him, Tinok can hear one man beginning to pant from the fear he’s feeling. Another starts mumbling to himself. Trying to shut out the noises of the others, Tinok concentrates on placing one foot in front of the other as the fear he too is feeling works to take away his ability to function.

Then his fear suddenly spikes as a shadow passes close by. Darker than the darkness that surrounds them, this shadow draws every eye until it again disappears back into the darkness.

“Wh…wh…what was that?” stammers Esix, fear very evident in his tone.

Unable to formulate words, Tinok simply shakes his head.

The warrior priest at last reaches a cell that looks to have been dug out of the cavern’s side. Basically a hole in the wall with a line of iron bars enclosing it. The door is opened and the prisoners are ushered inside.

Once they’re all in, the door shuts and the lock clicks closed. Then the warrior priest turns and fades into the darkness as he leaves them. The four cowled figures leave with him as well. The darkness is somewhat abated by a subtle light that fills the cell area. Where the source of the light is, is anyone’s guess.

The fear they’ve all felt since first entering the cavern still remains with them. Most of the men move as far back away from the front of their cell as they can. Tinok, to his shame, is there with them. Staring out into the darkness beyond the bars of their cell, he prays.

Night has fallen and the group gathers for one last meal before they make the attempt to gain entry into the temple. The mood is somber, even Aku has picked up that something is different than it was.

“This is truly a saga of the ages,” Scar says at one point.

“What do you mean?” asks James.

“If we survive this, what a tale it will make.” He glances from one to another. Then with a grin he continues. “How Scar and Potbelly saved the world.”

Everyone grins, some actually laugh. “Perhaps another name might be appropriate seeing as how you two aren’t even in the entire tale,” says Jiron.

“I guess it would all depend on who was telling it now wouldn’t it?” Potbelly asks in all seriousness. Then his face breaks into another grin as laughter rolls forth.

“Are you going to sit on the bank of that river when this is all over?” Jiron asks James.

“Man you know it,” he replies. “I think each of us has had enough adventuring for awhile.”

“What do you mean enough?” asks Scar. “This is the most fun we’ve ever had!”

“You got that right,” pipes up Potbelly.

“So what do you plan to do?” asks Stig the pair. “Still going to get one of those hell hounds and put it in the Pits?”