Shades of the Past: The Morcyth Saga Book Six Read online

  Shades of the Past

  The Morcyth Saga

  Book Six

  Brian S. Pratt

  Copyright 2006, 2009

  Smashwords Edition, License Notes

  This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person you share it with. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then you should return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Books written by Brian S. Pratt can be obtained either through the author’s official website:

  www.briansprattbooks.com

  or through select, online book retailers.

  The Fantasy Worlds of

  Brian S. Pratt

  The Morcyth Saga

  The Unsuspecting Mage

  Fires of Prophecy

  Warrior Priest of Dmon-Li

  Trail of the Gods

  The Star of Morcyth

  Shades of the Past

  The Mists of Sorrow*

  *(Conclusion of The Morcyth Saga)

  Travail of The Dark Mage

  Sequel to The Morcyth Saga

  1-Light in the Barren Lands

  2- (forthcoming 2010)

  The Broken Key

  #1- Shepherd’s Quest

  #2-Hunter of the Horde

  #3-Quest’s End

  Qyaendri Adventures

  Ring of the Or’tux

  Dungeon Crawler Adventures

  Underground

  Portals

  The Adventurer’s Guild

  #1-Jaikus and Reneeke Join the Guild

  For my Grandma Jessie. As a boy it was always fun to stay with her: picking worms, canasta, and penny slots at Lake Tahoe when no one was looking.

  Will always love her.

  Prologue

  ______________________

  The common room of the tavern is packed with the noon meal crowd. Tradesmen and travelers make up most of the Squawking Gooses’ clientele. A few farmers are scattered about, those who are in town for one reason or another.

  A tirade is in progress over by the bar, a woman is telling her man off in rare form. Apparently she’s the wife of the proprietor, the man being the proprietor himself. He looks as though he’s taking it with a grain of salt, simply letting her run out of steam while he waits patiently.

  A man over to one side sitting at a table near a window has been watching the spectacle from the beginning. He’s not sure just what started it but it has at least been a distraction while he awaits the others who are to meet him here. Several hours overdue, his impatience is steadily growing into anger.

  No sooner does the woman stop explaining to the man how stupid and ignorant he is, then she turns and stalks through the door leading into the kitchen area. The look on the proprietor’s face is one of relief and the man wonders how he puts up with such behavior from a woman. Shaking his head, the man glances out the window. “Finally!” he breathes under his breath as the two men whom he’s been waiting for ride up the street toward the inn.

  Remaining in his seat, he watches as the men approach and then come to a stop where the other horses are secured to the rail outside. Dismounting, they secure their steeds to the rail and make their way into the inn.

  One is rather tall, easily half a head taller than any of the other patrons in the common room. Red haired with a trim beard, he looks as though he’s seen his share of conflict if the numerous scars on the exposed portions of his body are any indication. The other man only comes to his shoulders, flaxen hair and carrying himself with confidence. Neither are ones you would want to run into alone in a dark alley.

  They pause in the doorway as the tall man takes in the people in the common room. Seeing the one they’re to meet he taps his partner on the shoulder and they make their way across the crowded room. When they reach the table where the man waits they take their seats. The man who has been waiting for them says, “About time you guys got here.”

  “Take it easy,” the tall man says. “Took some time to find the numbers you wanted.”

  “Not to mention the items you requested,” the flaxen haired man adds. “Those are hard to come by.”

  “Did you get them, then?” the man asks.

  “Yes,” the tall man replies. “We got everything you requested.”

  “And the men?”

  “They’re waiting outside of town,” flaxen hair says.

  “Good,” he grunts and then glances around to be sure none of the other patrons are paying attention. Lowering his voice he says, “He lives outside of town. I’ve kept an eye on the place for the last three days. It looks like we’ll have little trouble.”

  “Thought there was a veritable army there?” tall man asks.

  “There was,” he replies. “But most everyone pulled out two days ago. All that’s left there are two men and one only has one leg. There’s also a woman and a child but I doubt if they will cause us any problems.”

  “Is the mage still there?” flaxen hair asks.

  Nodding, the man replies, “I saw him doing some strange experiments.”

  “Are you sure taking on a mage is a good idea,” the tall man asks. Usually afraid of nothing, the thought of crossing one who can wield the power makes him uneasy.

  “That’s why you brought what you did,” he says. “Those who I deal with say he has a fortune there in gems. From what they’ve learned, he has a trader sell them in other towns to avoid drawing unwanted attention to himself.”

  Grinning, flaxen hair asks, “Didn’t work, did it?”

  “No,” replies the man with an evil grin. “This is going to be the biggest score we’ve yet made.”

  “When do we go?” tall man asks.

  “Tonight,” replies the man. “Once the sun goes down.”

  Rising up to the sky, it floats gently upon the breeze. Finally, his vision has seen fruition as the rising object continues to gain altitude. Oh sure, he had help but this has been his project from the beginning. Delia found the material, Ezra sewed it together for him in just the right way and James added a suggestion or two that helped.

  He always knew this would work, his first attempt was a month ago. Using a small sack made from the light material he managed to get it to rise a little in the air when held aloft over an open flame. When it actually lifted several feet into the air he almost broke down and cried right there. For too long he had endured the snide remarks from others who thought he was crazy. Some even here at The Ranch looked at him odd at times but James never let anyone say a word of derision to him.

  Now, a month later, he’s trying something a bit more ambitious. Using a much larger balloon, he’s hoping to have it rise and stay afloat for a much longer time. The balloon has now floated to the treetops and is becoming dangerously close to being entangled in the upper reaches of a tall pine. “Move…come on,” he says as the balloon comes ever closer to the branches. “Rise damn you!” he practically yells just before the edge snags a branch. The balloon lurches to the side and starts deflating.

  “Damn!” he yells.

  “Not working?” a voice asks from nearby.

  Turning, he finds Fifer there walking toward him. Leaning upon a crutch, he hobbles as best he can. Actually, he can get around pretty good with it and even has begun practicing with his sword, though isn’t nearly as good as he once was. He lost his leg on the journey to Ironhold last Fall.

  “The wind keeps taking it into the trees,” he says. “Have
to find some way to make it rise faster.”

  “I’m sure you’ll make it work,” Fifer says. “Oh, your wife said to tell you dinner is almost ready.”

  “Thanks,” Roland replies. “I just need to get it down before I return. Tell her I will be a few minutes.”

  “Sure thing,” he assures him. Turning his back on Roland, Fifer begins making his way back across the clearing. He grins to himself when he recalls how this clearing came to be.

  It was early last winter, shortly after their return from Ironhold. James had been out here working on some experiment or another and had laid waste to a swathe of the forest. By the time the fires died out, almost forty acres had burned. In the middle of the ashes was a clearing several hundred feet across devoid of anything living.

  James had come out of it looking the worse for wear. Most of his hair had been singed and he said if he hadn’t erected a shield in time, he wouldn’t have lived to tell about it. When asked, he didn’t go into very much details on what he was doing or why.

  After that and during the rest of the winter, things were in high gear. He wasn’t told the particulars of what was transpiring and had the feeling no one but James, maybe Illan, knew the whole truth. But from what was going on, he knew James no longer was going to be content with waiting for danger to come to him. He was going to take it to them.

  During the early winter months, Delia made many trips to and from The Ranch, much more frequently than she ever had before. The items she was dropping off here didn’t make much sense: small, round glass balls with a hole in the top, not to mention the barrels of lantern oil. Didn’t make much sense to Fifer.

  Once the snows had set in around December, Delia and the pit fighters she uses as guards rolled into The Ranch and stayed. She began training the recruits in the use of slings. To the chagrin of Jiron, his sister Tersa joined the others in learning the use of the sling. James had a slug belt made for each of them, similar in design to the one he uses.

  All through the winter, James, Jiron and Illan worked in the workshop. All others were kept out as they did who knows what. Fifer tried to look in through a window once but found it to be covered with a dark cloth to prevent anyone from discovering what was going on inside.

  When news came last week that the passes were open to the east, James announced that everyone would be leaving for an extended trip. Didn’t say where they were bound but everyone had a good idea, especially after what happened in Ironhold. Each of the recruits was given the option of staying behind or going with him and all opted to go.

  Two days before they left, James told each of the recruits to spend what time they wished with their families before they set out.

  When the day came to leave, James, Illan and Jiron brought many packs out from the workshop. Bulging with unknown items, they began securing them to the many pack horses he had acquired during the winter, a dozen in all.

  Before he left, he told Roland that if he didn’t return, The Ranch was his to do with as he saw fit. Then he, along with the recruits, Delia and her guards as well as Illan and the others, rode out the lane and took the road north.

  Entering through the back door, Fifer finds Ezra putting the last of the food on the table. Arkie is already sitting in his highchair and perks up when he sees Fifer come in through the door. “Ife,” he says in his baby talk. The last month or so he’s begun to talk and be somewhat understood.

  Giving the boy a smile, he says to Ezra, “He’ll be in shortly. His balloon got caught in the tree again.”

  Shaking her head, she says, “That’s the third time in two days.”

  He takes his seat and is amazed at just how large the table seems now that most everyone is gone. Roland and Ezra still reside in the old house, the new one is for James. It was completed not too long after their return from Ironhold and he quickly took up residence there. But until they know for sure that he’s not coming back, he’s still the master and that’s his house.

  A few minutes later, the door opens and Roland enters carrying his balloon. A long jagged hole is apparent from where the tree limb had punctured it. He puts it on the counter and then takes his place at the head of the table. That’s his spot now that James is no longer here.

  The meal passes quickly, the eaters are no longer in danger of being struck by Arkie’s food, Ezra finally got it through to him that throwing one’s food is not to be tolerated. Afterwards, they adjourn to the living room where they use to have the nightly gatherings.

  With just the few here it doesn’t have the joviality that it once did. Fifer wouldn’t even mind hearing another of Uther and Jorry’s fantastical tales. Of course, ever since Delia showed up and stayed, Scar and Potbelly have given them a run for their money. Each night it seemed the two pairs would try to outdo the others in seeing who could tell the most outrageous story. Some were quite good.

  Fifer takes his seat on the couch and is immediately attacked by the two puppies James had acquired over the winter. Cyne and Tor, the dogs of Corbin had puppies and he had given James two. One is brown and James began calling him Bandit, the other was black and has the name Shiloh.

  “Down boys,” he says as they jump upon his lap, tails wagging furiously in their excitement.

  “They sure took a liking to you,” Roland says from his chair near the fireplace.

  Ezra joins them and sets Arkie on the ground. Immediately, the pups jump to the floor and begin to wrestle with him, much to his delight. His squeals of excitement elicit barks and before you know it the front room is a veritable cacophony of noise.

  Outside the sky is starting to darken. It still hasn’t come to that time of year yet when the sun stays up longer. Ezra begins humming a song they’ve heard a hundred times before. It’s one from her homeland, one that her mother sung to her as a child.

  Fifer relaxes, the melody soothing him and he closes his eyes as the music flows over him and through him. Even the play of Arkie and the pups on the floor becomes slightly subdued as each is affected by her voice.

  The evening progresses and times of song or stories are intermixed with times of silence. It was during one such time when Bandit’s ears suddenly become erect and he leaps to his feet. Fifer notices him looking around for a few seconds before Shiloh starts acting the same way. A growl begins to come from deep within their throats.

  Just then, three flaming balls sail through the open window and land near Arkie. The balls are emitting noxious fumes which quickly fill the room.

  Crash!

  The front door slams open a second later from the force of someone kicking it. Men armed with swords and crossbows race within.

  Ezra screams and rushes to grab Arkie from amidst the burning, smoking balls. Neither Fifer nor Roland are armed.

  “Stay right where you are!” the leader of the men tells them.

  With Arkie in her arms, Ezra moves to stand behind Roland who has come to his feet. Fifer remains seated, his crutch having been knocked to the floor when the dogs had jumped on him.

  “What do you want?” Roland asks, fear for his family evident in his voice.

  “First we want your gold,” the leader says. “Then we want your woman.”

  In a voice much calmer than the situation would seem to warrant, Roland says, “I advise you to leave while you still can.”

  “Ha!” a tall man with red hair says. “You can’t do anything, mage. Your powers have been taken away.”

  His head does feel a little fuzzy. Glancing to the smoldering balls lying in the middle of the floor, he realizes what he’s talking about. They must emit something that renders mages unable to focus and draw upon their power. Then realization dawns on him. They think he’s James! If it wasn’t for the gravity of the situation he might have laughed.

  “Where’s the gold!” a short, flaxen haired man demands. Holding a crossbow threateningly, he shouts, “Where is it!”

  Roland glances to the window and sees even more bandits looking in. At least four crossbows are aimed at
him and the others.

  “Well?” the leader asks. “Are you going to tell us or do we start by killing the boy?”

  “No!” screams Ezra as she clutches Arkie even tighter to her breast.

  Before James left, Roland had expressed concern over just this sort of eventuality. What if someone came in search of James and attacked? With just he and Fifer, they would be taken out fast. So James worked it out and said if ever they were in danger here at The Ranch, Roland was to say a certain word.

  Staring at the leader of the bandits, he says the word, “Phantasm!”

  “What?” the leader questions. Suddenly from outside, a man’s voice cries out in pain and fear. Then more voices are heard as others join their voices with the first. A quick glance to the window shows the men who had been there are there no longer.

  A red sphere blossoms to life in the middle of the living room. Bright red with bands of a darker red swirling through its middle, it hovers there for a brief moment.

  Screams from outside have turned to high pitched panic as men race away from the house for their lives. Within the house, the remaining bandits stare in nervousness at the sphere hovering before them.

  “What trick is this?” demands the leader.

  The sphere flashes and a beam of red light strikes the leader in the chest. A cry of agony is torn from his throat as it burns a hole completely through him. As he falls to the floor dead, the other bandits panic and turn to flee from the house. One of the crossbowmen lets fly a bolt at Roland but a red beam flashes out and destroys it before it can reach him.