“Every god has a set of rules that his priests must abide by,” comments Brother Willim. “Each has certain mandates that those who follow him must adhere to in order for the god’s interests on this world to be accurately reflected.”
“Like what?” Potbelly asks.
“Take my lord Asran for instance,” Brother Willim says. “As a priest of Asran, one of the mandates for me is to not harm another living person except under the most strictest of exceptions. And let me tell you, there are very few of those.”
“I take it the Hand has more leeway than others in your order?” Jiron asks.
“Not as much as you would expect,” he says. “Weeds must be pulled, branches at times must be pruned for the tree’s ultimate health.” Brother Willim sighs and then adds, “But that doesn’t mean every blow we deal or death we cause won’t have an accounting later on. At the end when we stand before Asran, we will have to justify every hurt that we gave others. Those who are found to have caused pain and suffering during their time as a priest for no good reason…” He trails off into silence, leaving the sentence incomplete.
“I think I get the idea,” Potbelly says.
Turning to Miko, Brother Willim says, “You may find that having people call you ‘Miko’ will not be allowed. As High Priest, you now must cultivate the dignity and prestige that comes with the title.”
Setting his face into a stern expression, Miko pats the saddlebag wherein lies the Book of Morcyth and says, “I have yet read in this book that that is so. And until I do, I wish to remain just Miko.”
“But remember,” Brother Willim says, “You are no longer ‘just Miko’.”
James turns in his saddle and looks back to Brother Willim and Miko. He can see the stubborn look on Miko’s face and tries to hide a grin. “If the High Priest of Morcyth wants me to call him Miko, then I shall,” he says much to Miko’s relief.
“So will I,” adds Jiron.
They proceed down two more blocks in silence until Miko suddenly breaks into laughter.
“What’s so funny?” asks Shorty.
“I just got to thinking that Scar and Potbelly now have another fantastic story to tell that no one will believe,” he explains, then breaks out into another fit of laughter. And with that, the uncertain mood of the group is shattered and everyone joins in with their own laughter.
“Yeah I can see it now, ‘It’s true! We were there when Miko the street brat became the High Priest of Morcyth!’” he says imitating Potbelly’s voice which only makes everyone laugh all the harder.
“You got one now that Jorry and Uther aren’t going to be able to top!” laughs Stig.
The few people they pass on the street pause in their work to watch the group of men riding down the street, laughing uproariously. A few of them simply shake their heads and return to their work.
Still scanning those they pass in the hopes of seeing an old friend that managed to survive the fall of the City, they continue working their way to the gates. Face after face go by, yet none that any of them recognize. As the gates come into view ahead of them, they have all but given up hope of finding anyone they know.
Then, when they reach the gates, a voice calls from the crowd congregating near the opening. “Shorty!” a woman’s voice cries out.
Turning toward the sound of the voice, Shorty comes to a stop as he scans the crowd for the source of the voice. Then he sees auburn hair tied back with a green ribbon. “Millie!” he cries. Dismounting, he races through the crowd toward her.
The others have come to a stop and watch as he reaches her and envelopes her in a very friendly hug. James glances questioningly to Jiron who explains. “That’s Millie. Shorty and her had a thing before she married some shopkeeper.” Turning to Scar he asks, “Do you remember his name?”
Shaking his head, Scar replies, “No. All I remember is the binge Shorty went on after she told him she was to wed someone else.”
Breaking off the embrace, Shorty asks, “Did what’s his name make it too?”
She gives him playful pat on the shoulder and says, “You know his name is Rulen. And yes, he made it. When we heard the Empire was being pushed back, he wanted to be one of the first to return and get the business up and running again.”
Slightly saddened that she isn’t his, yet happy that she’s alive and in good spirits, he says, “I’m glad for you.”
Reaching out, she gives him another big hug and then asks, “Can I see you later? Rulen could use help in getting the business back up and running.”
Shaking his head, he says, “No.” Nodding back to where the others are waiting for him he adds, “We were about ready to leave town.”
“I’m sorry,” she says. “Shorty, I’m glad you made it.”
“As I am for you,” he replies. Emboldened by the fact that he’s leaving, he grips her in his arms and kisses her smack dab on the lips. “May be back someday,” he tells her as he releases his grip.
“Come see us when you do,” she replies.
“I will,” he assures her. Turning back to his friends, he says to her, “If I don’t see you again, I wish you all the happiness.”
She follows him to his horse and waits while he mounts. “Fare you well, Shorty,” she tells him. “I missed you.”
“Let’s go,” says Jiron as he begins moving once more toward the gates.
As Shorty’s horse starts to follow the others, he turns in his saddle and waves goodbye. Millie stands there and waves back.
Finally, they reach the gates and pass through. Once past the crowd by the gate and on the road, Jiron quickly has them up to a gallop. Behind them, the walls of the City of Light quickly fall away in the distance, until finally disappearing altogether.
Throughout the rest of the day they ride hard until their horses, even with trading off with their spares, begin to show signs of exhaustion. They spend a night of relative quiet and are again off before first light.
The days of hard riding are beginning to show. Their horses are starting to weary faster so they’re forced to slow the pace and add a couple more rest breaks throughout the day. Some time before noon they pass the city of Reardon, only slowing down to work their way through its streets and the people upon them. Then once past they again resume a pace as fast as the condition of their horses will allow.
There’s no time to waste, the clock is ticking. They now must find Tinok!
After spending two more nights on the road, the walls of Al-Ziron appear before them in the late afternoon. Their horses are all but spent and they desperately need the replacements Illan promised them when they left just over a week ago.
Squads of riders patrol the countryside and they come across two with Raiders who had accompanied them to Korazan earlier in the summer. They report that the area is clear and the delegation from the Empire has arrived. Talks are already underway to halt the fighting permanently.
A cessation to the fighting is now in place until the conclusion of the talks. Whether it will become a permanent situation will depend on the skill of the representatives of the two sides. The last patrol they encountered sent a rider to inform Black Hawk of their approach. So when they draw close to the walls of Al-Ziron, they are met by Illan, and the two remaining brothers of the Hand of Asran.
Brother Willim is surprised to see the priests still here.
“I thought they were taking your fallen brethren back home?” asks Stig.
“They were,” he replies. “The fact that they are here cannot bode well.”
As the two groups meet, Illan says, “I didn’t expect you for a couple more days.” Then he takes in the thinness of the horses. “Rest assured, I have fresh mounts ready for you.”
“Thank you,” says James.
Just as he’s about to continue, Illan holds up his hand. “We need to talk in private,” he says quietly. Glancing to Brother Willim he adds, “You too.”
“Very well,” Brother Willim says.
“Trouble?” asks Jiron nodding over to the tents of the Ambassador’s party.
“Not here,” he says with a shake of his head. Turning his horse around, he leads them through the gates of Al-Ziron. “Are Delia and the others safely within Cardri?” he asks.
