Brian Pratt - The mists of sorrow

Once they leave the stairwell, Ceadric takes them through hallways other than those they used to initially reach the tower. Few servants are about, those they encounter pay them little attention.

They finally arrive at a locked door where Ceadric pauses a moment and produces a key that unlocks it. Pushing the door open, the unmistakable odor of straw and horse manure comes to them.

Hedry along with a dozen other Raiders whom they recognize turn toward them when they hear the door open.

“Everything set?” asks Ceadric as he moves into the stable.

“Yes sir,” replies Hedry. He and his men begin equipping those who need it with armor they brought. All that is except Brother Willim who dons a plain dark cloak which is as far as he’s willing to go.

Ceadric waves over a soldier who comes and joins him while he helps James into his armor. “This is Reilin,” he says. “He’s willing to accompany you and be your interpreter.”

“Welcome aboard, Reilin,” James says in greeting.

Reilin merely nods in reply. Standing a hair over six feet, he makes an imposing figure with his jet black hair.

“Are the gates still being watched?” Jiron asks.

“Last we checked they were,” Ceadric replies. “Don’t worry, I doubt if they’ll suspect anything.”

“Let’s hope not,” says James.

When at last they are all suitably attired in armor, they mount their horses. James and Miko need help, the additional weight of the armor making it difficult for them to make it up. With the aid of two Raiders, they manage to get into the saddle.

Hedry mounts and looks back. “Form it up back there,” he commands. James and the rest tighten their formation with Brother Willim in the middle. “We leave the barn and head straight for the gates. No talking or stopping.” After receiving acknowledgement for the plan, he turns back toward the stable’s exit and nudges his horse into motion.

They leave the stable and begin crossing the open courtyard toward the gate. As they draw near, a clank is heard and the portcullis begins to be drawn up. On the other side of the wall is a group of four men dressed in Empire attire not more than ten feet from the gate. Standing around a fire, they turn at the raising of the portcullis.

One of the men comes forward and asks good naturedly, “Out for no good again Hedry?”

“You know it Ezzin,” he replies. “You’ll have to wait to win your gold back for a few days I’m afraid.”

Laughing, Ezzin says, “See you when you return.”

As James and the rest pass by the area where Ezzin and his comrades take their ease by the fire, his anxiety rises with fear of being discovered. But he has little to worry about as Ezzin and the others hardly give them more than a cursory glance. Still, he doesn’t relax until they are swallowed by the night and the light from Ezzin’s fire disappears in the dark.

“You know him?” asks Potbelly.

“Ezzin?” asks Hedry. “Oh sure. He likes to lose at cards and I’m quite happy to oblige him.” Several men chuckle at that. “You would be surprised what one can learn during a friendly game of cards.”

They ride to the southeast in the dark with only the stars and the moon above to light their way for an hour before Hedry brings them to a halt. “Here’s where we part ways,” he tells them.

Removing the armor they used to disguise themselves, they return it to Hedry and his men who pack it away behind their saddles. “I appreciate this,” James tells him once the heavy weight of the armor is gone.

“Not a problem,” he replies. “Just hope you find what you’re looking for.”

“So do I,” James tells him.

With farewells passing from one group to the other, Hedry gets his men moving and soon James and the others are left alone in the night.

“Which way?” asks Jiron. Now that they are finally on their way to find Tinok, his impatience is getting the better of him.

“Better head south until daylight,” says James. “When it’s light I’ll try to get a better idea of where he is.”

“South it is,” Jiron says and they get underway.

James glances with foreboding at the moon shining above them. Now less than three weeks before the Shroud of Killian once again blinds the Giant’s Eye, he fervently hopes they can find Tinok before it’s too late.

After their initial grief over losing the members of their village to the grayness in the desert, Zyrn sent a rider south. He hoped that when the rider reaches the temple he’ll be able to convince someone to come and deal with this. The rider was none too happy about the fact that the only temple close was that of Dmon-Li. After all, their priests were none too helpful to the ordinary man.

The day following Zyrn’s return to the village, he along with several others returns to the gray area. He makes sure to keep his distance, the memory of his friend’s death within the grayness still very much on his mind. When they finally reach the border of the gray area, Zyrn has the feeling it didn’t take him nearly as long to reach it as it did last time.

Only one of those who accompanied him this time had been with him last time. Kabu, one of the ones who are seeing the grayness for the first time, sits there on his horse with eyes wide and mouth open. It seems as if the grayness extends all the way to the horizon. “I can’t believe this,” he says.

“Believe it,” asserts Zyrn. “Don’t go near it or it may kill you.”

“Why are we here?” another asks.

Coming to a stop well back from the edge of the grayness, Zyrn removes a bundle from behind his saddle. Laying it on the ground, he unrolls the cloth to reveal six Parvati longswords. Picking up one of the swords acquired during their initial scavenging expedition, he begins walking toward the edge of the grayness.

“The last time I was here…” he explains then stops and glances back to where the others remain with the horses. “It’s safe enough to come a little closer,” he assures them.

“If it’s all the same,” Kabu says, “we’ll stay right here.”

Sighing with a shake of his head, Zyrn resumes his trek to the edge of the grayness. “As I was saying,” he begins again, this time raising his voice so the others can hear him better, “the last time I was here, I saw it expand.”

Stopping three feet from the edge of the shimmering grayness, he eyes it warily. Grasping the hilt of the sword, he holds it point downward. Raising the hilt as high as he can, he thrusts it into the ground. The blade sinks half a foot before coming to a stop. Making sure it is securely in the ground, he then turns back and hurries to rejoin the others.

“What I want to do is see how fast it is growing,” he explains as he reaches the others. “By placing these swords along its edge every fifty feet or so, we’ll get a good idea of what it’s doing.”

“Why?” asks one of the men as Zyrn takes another sword.

Zyrn stops and looks the man in the eye. “I don’t want to wake up one night to find it at our village,” he says. “Or worse yet, not waking up because it is encompassing our village.”

Striding off to the right of the spot where he placed the first sword, he goes approximately fifty feet from where the first blade is in the ground before coming to a stop. Trying to place the sword exactly the same distance from the edge of the grayness as the other, he thrusts it into the ground. Again making sure the sword will remain standing upright, he returns for another.

Again and again he takes the swords and thrusts them into the ground at the edge of the grayness. When all six swords are firmly fixed into the ground, he stands back and looks at them.

“Now what?” asks one of the men.