Brian Pratt - The mists of sorrow

As far as the Empire soldiery still out in the field, here around Al-Ziron there are no forces of any size. To the east, with help from the Kirkens, the Empire has been thrown back to the previous border. To the west the battle still rages but it’s only a matter of time before the Empire is forced completely out of Madoc.

“You okay?” a woman’s voice asks.

Turning around, he finds Tersa walking toward him.

“Better,” he replies. “Still not great.” He can see the weariness in her eyes, eyes that have witnessed too much battle. “How about you?”

Shrugging, she gazes over the battlements to the west. With the last rays of the setting sun shining upon her face she says, “I just want to go home.”

He understands how she feels. However, the area between here and Kern is not safe. There are still roving bands of Empire forces on the move, not to mention one or two bands of mercenaries out looking for mischief. The southern route to Cardri is not safe at the moment.

The Merchant’s Pass, according to all reports, has yet to reopen and probably won’t until the hostilities further subside. So that leaves the northern route through Dragon’s Pass. The area due north of Al-Ziron is firmly in the hands of Madoc and once at the Sea they could turn west and make it to the Pass with relative safety.

“Has Jiron talked with you yet?” he asks.

She shakes her head in reply.

“He wants to go in search of Tinok badly,” he explains. “But his need for keeping you safe is more important to him.” He pauses as she turns to look at him. “So in the morning we’re going to ride north and escort you, Delia and anyone else who wishes to return home to Dragon’s Pass.”

“What about Tinok?” she asks. “This could take days or even weeks.” In her eyes is the fear that because of her, Tinok might die.

“Illan’s going to loan us spare horses,” he explains. “If we ride hard, we should make it there and back in just over a week.”

She looks at him skeptically. “That isn’t going to leave you much time,” she states.

“What good will Jiron be if we leave you here with Illan?” he asks. “His state of mind will be shot. Besides it’s not just you but Delia too. She’s a trader at heart, not a warrior. From what I understand she’s managed to get Devin and the others to be guards for her caravan when she returns.”

Smiling, she asks, “How did she do that?”

Shrugging, he replies, “I don’t know. Maybe they finally got sick and tired of all the blood and guts. Caravan guard duty is less valorous, but you stand a good chance of surviving it.”

Giving out with a slight chuckle, she says, “True.”

Illan offered them all a position in the command structure he’s creating to secure the southern border. Only Jorry, Uther and Yern took him up on it. The pit fighters, when they learned that James and Jiron were going in search of Tinok, turned him down. If Tinok is in trouble, they wanted to help. Illan informed them that the offer stands should they ever change their minds. There are few enough people that he feels he can completely trust, and those that have ridden with him the last year are among them.

Even at this late hour, riders continue to pass through the main gates. Most are scouts and messengers, though a few are civilian in nature though not many. Some of the freed slaves they brought out of the Empire decided to remain with Black Hawk and have taken service here at Al-Ziron. Those who wished to continue further into Madoc in search of home or loved ones have already done so.

At the gates the grizzled old timer Nerun, along with a squad of men, questions everyone who passes through. Their job is to see to it that no spies of the Empire enter the fortress.

“Illan’s giving us a send-off tonight in the main hall,” he tells her.

“I heard that,” she replies. “Seems he even dug up several musicians.”

“Probably just soldiers with some talent,” he guesses.

“We should get ready, it’s going to start soon,” she says. “That’s what I came up here to tell you.”

“Very well,” he says and then follows her down from the battlements.

Wounded are lying in rows across the courtyard. Fortunately for them, it hasn’t begun to rain yet and it doesn’t look as if it will for some time. James and Tersa are forced to make their way around pockets of wounded as they head for the main hall. Off to one side they see Miko with the Star healing a man with a bloody rag tied around his face. Brother Willim and the other two remaining members of the Hand are elsewhere in the courtyard helping others, green glows surround each of them.

“I’ll meet you inside,” he tells her.

“Okay,” she replies and then continues on toward the main hall.

Angling over toward Miko, he sees him still kneeling next to the man with the head injury. Just as he draws close, the glow from the Star winks out and Miko sighs. A healer who has been assisting him removes the bandage from his face to reveal a pink line where a jagged cut had been moments before.

Miko looks up at him with weary eyes.

Offering a hand, James helps him to his feet. “How much longer are you going to be?” he asks.

“As long as it takes,” he replies.

“You’re dead on your feet now,” states James. Glancing around at the wounded still waiting for Miko’s attention he says, “None of these men will die if you get some rest.”

“I know,” he says. “But I can shorten their recovery time and perhaps some will be able to have better lives because of what I do.”

James nods, he can understand where he’s coming from. “We’re leaving in the morning,” he tells him. “A quick ride north to see Tersa and the others safely to the border of Madoc then we set out in search of Tinok.”

Miko nods his head as he comes to a man who lost two fingers during the battle. The man’s comrade sitting on the ground next to him holds a blood soaked rag containing the severed digits. “I’ll be there,” he assures him.

“Get some rest if you can,” he suggests.

Taking the bloody rag containing the fingers, he turns to look at James and says, “No promises.” Then he removes the digits and has the man’s comrade hold them in place as the glow shines forth from the Star.

Leaving Miko to his healing, James heads toward the main hall. Jiron is standing on the steps having just witnessed him with Miko. “He’s not coming to the dinner?” he asks.

Shaking his head, James replies, “No. I doubt if I would in his place.” Glancing at Jiron he adds, “Some things are more important.”

“You got that right,” he agrees. Just like Miko, he’s torn between what he wants to do and what he must. Tinok or Tersa? A hard choice but Tersa won out even though he still agonizes over the decision. He simply could not let her and the others brave the trip through war torn Madoc by themselves. If something should happen, he never would have forgiven himself.

Side by side, the two friends pass through the archway leading to the main hall. As they enter the short hallway that goes from the archway to the main hall, music begins to play. Not great music, but at least the musicians are all on the same beat. Walking down the hallway, they approach the doors leading into the festivities.

Not a great many people were invited to the feast; the old time Raiders, the crew from The Ranch and several others whom James doesn’t know. He wishes Lord Pytherian had remained but he and his men had left shortly after Illan agreed to take over the southern defenses. He and his men were needed in the west to finish the job there.

Upon entering the hall, Illan who’s dressed in regular clothes waves them over. Off to one side are the three musicians, though they look the part of scruffy old soldiers more, who fill the hall with music.