“What was that?” Dave exclaims from where he and the others are beginning to make camp for the night.
Off to the east thunder rolls as a fiery blast is seen reaching to the sky many miles away. “That had to be James,” Miko replies anxiously. “He must be in trouble.”
A clatter of wood comes from the side of the camp where Fifer was bringing some back for the evening fire. “No resting tonight,” he says as glances around at all the faces. “He needs us.”
Not one person gainsays him. The plans to make camp and continue in the morning are set aside as they begin to hustle down the road in the fading light.
Jiron continues riding well into the night. Even though that blast most likely took out the mage and most of the others, he dares not stop. At one point James indicates he can ride and after a short stop to untie him and help him into the saddle, they continue down the road.
“You okay?” he asks him once they’ve resumed riding.
“Not great,” he replies. “Head still spins and doubt if I could do any magic for awhile, but other than that I think I’ll live.”
“What did you do back at the camp?” Jiron asks.
James glances at him and flashes him a grin. “Set a time bomb.”
“A time bomb?” he asks, never having heard the expression before.
“That’s right,” he replies. “Don’t ask me to explain, there are certain things I would rather not introduce to this world.”
“Why?” he asks in confusion.
“Let’s just say if the wrong people here come to know all that I do, it could lead to some very unpleasant things happening,” he explains. When Jiron turns to look at him, he gives his friend a serious look which says there’s no point in pursuing this any longer.
“As you wish,” he finally says. They ride on in silence for awhile as Jiron’s mind mulls over what he just said. He wonders what more James is capable of.
Another hour finds them coming to a river which exits from a break in the mountain and joins the road as it follows it down the side of the mountain to Madoc. James indicates they should pull off the road and make camp.
Moving far enough through the trees so that anyone passing by will unlikely be able to see them, they stop and set about making camp. James is all but exhausted, still not having recovered fully from the fight with the creatures and the effects of whatever was in the vial. Jiron offers to watch while he sleeps and he’s in no position to deny him. He no sooner lays his head on his arm than he’s out.
Awakening in the morning, he finds Jiron has managed to catch, clean and cook a small animal for their breakfast. “Hungry?” he asks from where he sits at the fire. Next to him is a pile of leaves with James’ portion lying upon it.
“Man you know it,” he says as he gets to his feet and comes over. Shivering from the cold of the mountains, he readily moves closer to the fire. Jiron hands him the leaves with his food. “Thanks.”
“No problem,” Jiron replies. “Thought you might need it.”
After taking a bite, he sits there a moment chewing before he asks, “Do you think it wise to have a fire? Won’t it attract anyone in the area?”
Shrugging, he says, “You need it. Besides, that explosion had to have taken out most if not all the soldiers back there. Anyone else it might attract would probably be from Madoc.”
“Perhaps,” he replies. Then the memory of those two creatures comes to mind and he’s not so sure. He sits there and contemplates them, what they were and so forth. That’s when he notices Jiron’s knife sheathes are empty. “They took your knives?” he asks.
Nodding, Jiron says, “They took everything. After I killed the last of those creatures they showed up and took us to their camp. Thanks for those ice knives.”
James looks at him questioningly, “Ice knives?”
“Yeah,” he says. “After you passed out and the remaining creature crashed through the ice which had formed on the barrier, I saw two knives lying there on the ground. Thought you had made them.”
Thinking back, he vaguely remembers something about that. “Don’t recall doing that, but maybe. My memory is sort of hazy from then.”
“Understandable,” he says. “But irregardless, those ice knives did the trick. Where mine were ineffective, those worked perfectly.”
James sits there chewing as he attempts to recall exactly what happened but the memories of that time are still a bit foggy. Perhaps they’ll come back later. He does remember what he realized about those creatures, that they were creatures of fire. It stands to reason then that ice knives would have more of an effect upon them.
“You said those creatures weren’t entirely real,” Jiron says. “What did you mean by that?”
“One of the theories about the universe is that there are many levels,” he explains. “According to that theory the plane of existence we live upon is simply one among many. Some hold to the belief that there are planes of existence where fire, air, earth and water rule. This one we live on would be considered a sort of centralized one where each of the four has an equal footing. Each one has an opposite, the creatures of fire for example are hurt most by forces made up of water or ice.”
Jiron nods as he begins to understand, though is still having a hard time with the concepts.
“Gods and those associated with them live on yet another plane, one more removed from that of the elements. I’ll not even get into the theory of alternate reality and the fourth dimension. Those even stymie many of the great thinkers of my world.” Great thinkers, right! More like a bunch of kids in some backroom role playing. He smiles at the thought. These were just the sort of discussions he, Dave and the others used to have on a regular basis.
“How many planes are there?” Jiron asks.
Shrugging, James says “Who knows? Now all this still may be only conjecture and not fact. It’s just that after seeing those two creatures earlier brought it to mind. We may never learn one way or another.” Of course Igor and Morcyth have to come from somewhere don’t they?
James finishes the last of the roasted animal and gets up to go over to a stream where he takes several deep drinks. After that they put out the fire and remount to continue heading down the mountain.
The next several hours find them coming to the foothills at the base of the mountains and after cresting one such hill can see the plains open up below them. Several miles further ahead, smoke rises from a town nestled in among the hills. The road they’re on continues toward it and then through it as it disappears into the horizon to the east. Another road runs along the base of the mountains moving north and south.
“Think Kerrin and Gayle are there?” Jiron asks indicating the town ahead of them.
“They had to pass through in any event,” replies James. “We’ll ask around when we get there and see if we can discover anything.”
“Can you do that mirror thing?” he asks.
“Possibly,” he replies. “I’ll worry about that when we get there, should we be unable to locate them.”
Nodding, Jiron kicks his horse and they hurry along down the road.
Chapter Twenty Three
The town they come to is fairly large, the smell of smoke from many iron smelters permeates the air. “Looks like they do a fair amount of iron smelting here,” comments Jiron as they ride past several buildings doing just that.
“It would seem so,” agrees James. Past the smelting complex they begin to enter the outskirts of the town itself. Several beggars line the streets with their hands out imploring the passersby to give them a coin. He feels sorry for them but has no coins with which to give, Kerrin and Gayle took all he and Jiron had. The horses they appropriated from the Empire’s camp didn’t have any on them when they checked earlier.
“How are you going to find out if they’re still here?” Jiron asks.
“I don’t know,” he replies as they continue riding casually through town. Ahead of him he spies the mouth of an alleyway and sitting against the corner of a building near the entrance is an open barrel. He moves his horse toward it and notices it is a barrel full of water, set there to catch the rain as it runs off the roof.