street, they race across the street to the doorway.
The door proves to be locked and they have a heart thumping few minutes standing there exposed in the street while Jiron works on the lock. Finally, they hear a click and the door swings open. Rushing in, they close the door behind them.
Chapter Seventeen
The room they find themselves in looks as if it had been ravaged by looters. Tables overturned, items from shelves thrown carelessly on the floor, and even a chair shows signs of being searched. The back of it has been sliced open and most of its stuffing lies scattered across the floor.
“They sure did a number on this place,” James says. Looking around, he picks up a book which has been torn apart. From the intricate design on the cover and the few pages he scans through, it seems a work of art. Saddened, he drops it back to the ground.
From where Jiron is looking out a window he nods without commenting. “Looks like they have slave gangs working to clear the streets,” he says after another minute.
Coming over to the window, James looks out and sees a dozen slaves with two guards further down the street where they’re clearing away the rubble. Several wagons stand ready next to them for the debris of the collapsed and ruined buildings they’re removing from the street. “Maybe they plan to stay here awhile?” he guesses.
“Probably.” Jiron then glances at him and asks, “Now that we’re here, how are you planning on discovering any information?” Gesturing to the slaves outside, he continues, “We’ll be seen sure as anything if we spend any time out there.”
“I know,” he replies. “Any information would be hundreds of years old. We need to locate buildings that have been around for centuries and somehow find a way to search them.”
“That could include over half the town!” Jiron exclaims. “It might take us weeks to be able to search all the buildings that would entail. And that’s only if they’re not currently occupied by the Empire’s forces.”
“We should probably work at night,” James says as he breaks out in a yawn. “Less chance of being spotted.”
“I agree,” replies Jiron. “We could use some rest. I’ll take the first watch. Don’t think I could fall asleep right now anyway.”
A tired James nods, not wishing to argue the point. He turns a couch back upright before lying down. Jiron standing before the window looking out is the last thing he sees before closing his eyes.
It’s almost night before James wakes up. “You didn’t wake me!” he says accusingly to Jiron where he still stands by the window.
“Wasn’t tired,” he says. “You looked like you needed it.”
Getting up, James walks over to look out the window. “Anything happening?” he asks.
“No,” he says, shaking his head. “The slaves continued all day clearing the rubble. A short time ago the wagons left and they were taken away.”
The street outside looks deserted in the deepening shadows. The light is beginning to fade as the sun hits the horizon. Jiron points down the street off to the west and says, “The only really old looking buildings I could see from here are down that way. One has the look of a temple, though in its present condition it’s hard to be sure.”
“Then let’s check it out once the light has completely faded,” James tells him.
“Maybe I should go alone?” he suggests.
“No,” replies James, rejecting the idea. “I need to go. There could be something there you’ll not recognize but that I will.”
“As you wish,” he replies. He then nods when he remembers the bronze plaque they found in the complex back in the swamp and how James had recognized its significance.
For the next hour they wait by the window as the light continues to fade until darkness completely envelopes the city. Jiron then opens the door, peering out to make sure the street is deserted. When he finds no one about, he moves into the dark street with James right behind him.
Keeping to the shadows, they move slowly down the street in the direction of the church Jiron had indicated earlier. If there was indeed an old church there, there may also be others in the immediate vicinity.
No patrols walk the streets of Saragon. They’ve been in control of it for so long they no longer need worry anymore about hold out survivors from the time of the city’s fall. This makes it easy for them to move quickly without being seen.
A noise in the night freezes them in their tracks. Keeping still against a wall bordering the street, they wait for a moment, listening. When the sound doesn’t repeat itself, they continue on.
Coming to an intersection of streets, Jiron pauses a moment to make sure the cross street is empty of soldiers. Looking down both ways, he then motions for James to follow as he darts across to the other side.
“We’re almost there,” he whispers as they work their way further down the street.
A great shadow looms in the darkness before them. Its spire, once tall and majestic now lies broken on the street. The smell of charred wood permeates everything, a fire had raged through here not very long ago, a week or two maybe. James glances in through a broken doorway of the building they’re moving along. The light from the stars above reveals a burnt out husk. What function the building held before the fire, can no longer be determined.
Jiron points to the building across the street and says, “That’s the temple I saw.”
“Let’s go then,” James tells him eagerly.
A quick look down the side streets and then they race across to the temple’s double entry doors. The one on the left is askew and slightly ajar. Squeezing through, they make their way inside. Jiron jumps when a small light appears in James’ hand.
“Sorry,” James says, orb glowing softly in his hand.
“No one’s going to detect that are they?” he asks.
“I don’t think so,” he assures him. “I haven’t felt anyone do magic since coming here.”
The interior is definitely that of a temple. Though it has been stripped and looted, it still has the unmistakable look of a place of worship. In the minimal light the orb is putting out, it’s hard to tell just who had been worshiped here. “Where do you propose we look?” Jiron asks.
“I’d think in the basement below,” suggests James. “It’s unlikely that had this been a Morcyth temple at one time, anything would have remained where the average person would be. The new occupants would’ve stripped off any old insignias and replaced them with their own.”
The temple is filled with rubble, portions of the ceiling as well as half a wall have fallen in. The debris covering the floor makes their footing unstable. They split up as they search for access to the lower levels, if there are any.
“Over here!” shouts James from where he’s searching near the back. Behind a fallen column lies a stairway going down.
Without waiting for Jiron to join him he moves down the stairs, taking care not to trip over the debris that has fallen upon them. As he makes his way down, the glow from the orb reveals where the stairs end at a corridor moving to the left and right. Glancing back to make sure Jiron is following him, he turns to the right and proceeds cautiously down the corridor.
Not very far down the corridor, he finds a body in the middle of the corridor. Hacked to pieces, it lays in a pool of dried blood. From the vestments the dead man is wearing, he looks to have been a priest of some sort.
Jiron comes close and after a brief examination says, “Asran. This temple must’ve been to the god Asran.”
“Asran?” asks James questioningly.
Nodding, he indicates a symbol of a plant encircled by a ring of interwoven leaves embroidered on the dead man’s clothes. “Asran is the god of nature, of growing things.” Glancing to James he adds, “A very important god to farmers and the like, can’t believe they would kill even priests, especially these.”
