The Star of Morcyth: The Morcyth Saga Book Five (12 page)

Jiron draws his knives and the battle
begins. The Parvati begins with a few testing maneuvers to see how
strong his defenses are. After several passes, he begins the fight
in earnest.

When Jiron realized that he faced a Parvati,
his first inclination was to produce the necklace and declare
himself a Shynti. But what the barkeep said kept running through
his mind.
Rumor has it he’s forced to fight for that man
there.

Working more on defense than actually trying
to do him harm, Jiron easily blocks every strike, deflects every
thrust. “Why do you do this?” he asks the Parvati during a series
of intermittent probes from the Parvati.

“Do what?” he asks as he launches into a
vicious attack which Jiron has a hard time in countering.

“This. Fighting for that man over there,” he
clarifies. “From the Parvatis I’ve known, they would never let
themselves be used thus.” Blocking an attack, he steps back a
minute as they both catch their breath.

The crowd has been cheering the interplay of
weapons. Over beneath the pavilion, Jiron can see the leader of the
Empire’s men smiling. He’s definitely getting his money’s
worth.

“I am honor bound to fight for him so long
as he doesn’t set me against my own people,” the Parvati states.
Coming at Jiron again, his blades are a veritable blur as they seek
to penetrate his defense. But as Jiron is only concentrating on
defense, he’s unable to find an opening.

“What happens if he should set you against
one of your own?” he asks.

“Then I am free and no longer honor bound to
obey him,” he replies. Stepping backward a moment, he says, “But
that is not a very likely possibility.”

As the Parvati moves in to continue the
attack, Jiron steps back and shouts “Hold!”

Only the fact that what he said was so
unexpected did the Parvati pause in his attack. The crowd
surrounding them, which had so recently been cheering and screaming
at the fighters, have grown quiet at the odd way in which the
combatants are acting. Blood should be flowing now, instead they’re
standing still, facing one another.

Jiron glances over to the men from the
Empire as he draws forth the necklace which signifies him as being
a Shynti. An honor given only to the most ferocious of fighters, an
honor which makes him one of them.

When the necklace comes free of his shirt
and the Parvati’s eyes rest upon it, he asks in a hushed whisper,
“Where did you get that?”

“I was given this by an old Parvati after
defeating one of their number during a blood duel in the city of
Korazan,” he explains.

“You’re a Shynti?” he asks, hardly daring to
believe what his eyes are telling him.

The leader of the men from the Empire begins
to sense things are not going as expected. “What’s all this?” he
asks as he comes forward. “Fight!” The crowd filling the courtyard
begins murmuring as they watch the scene playing out before
them.

Ignoring the man, Jiron nods his head and
says, “Yes, I am. I have feasted with the Eller Tribe.”

“Did you meet a warrior whose name was
Qyith?” he asks as a strange look comes over his face.

Nodding, Jiron replies, “He was the War
Leader of the Eller Tribe. A nice man all things considered.”

“He’s my brother,” states the Parvati. He
suddenly tilts his head back and lets out with a loud, primordial
cry.

Reaching their side, the man from the Empire
grabs the Parvati’s arm just as his cry comes to a close and
demands, “Why have you stopped the fight?”

Knocking his hand from his arm, the Parvati
rounds on him and says, “I will no longer fight for you.”

“What?” exclaims the man. “You are honor
bound to fight as I tell you!”

“No more will I fight honorless fights for
you,” he states with finality. Pointing to Jiron, he says, “He is a
Shynti of the Parvati’s which makes him one of our people. You put
me to fight one of my own so that which was binding is no longer. I
am free!”

The crowd, having grown restless when the
fight stopped, becomes silent as they watch the growing drama
unfold before them. From the pavilion, the rest of the Empire’s
people come forward to stand with their leader.

“He is no Parvati!” the man cries out in
rage. The thought that he’s going to lose his champion is almost
more than he can stand. “If you do not honor your agreement, then
you are an honorless swine!”

Moving so fast as to almost be unseen, the
Parvati’s sword strikes out, severing the man’s head from his
shoulders. As the head flies off and bounces on the ground several
feet away, the crowd becomes deathly silent as the man’s torso
stumbles about for a moment before crashing to the ground.

For a moment, the courtyard is silent as a
grave, the shock of this unexpected event stunning the onlookers.
Then the rest of the men from the Empire draw their swords as they
rush the Parvati to avenge the death of their leader.

Laughing, the Parvati faces them with both
swords as he blocks the attack of two men. The crowd suddenly turns
into a panicked mob as they race for the exits of the courtyard.
None wish to be around with an actual battle going on, not just
because they may get hurt, but because they don’t want to be around
when the city guard arrives.

Deflecting the attack of the two men, the
Parvati has left himself open to the thrust of the third. The blade
almost strikes his side when its course is deflected by a knife.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Jiron coming to his aid.
Laughing all the more, he cries out, “Come brother, let’s send
these men to the other side!”

“I’m with you!” Jiron cries out as he
follows through with his second knife, narrowly missing the man’s
stomach.

Suddenly, one of the men facing the Parvati
cries out as Fifer’s sword takes him through the side. The
remaining man facing the Parvati hacks down with all his might.
Using his longsword, the Parvati knocks the attacking blade to the
side and then follows through with his short sword, sinking it to
the hilt between the man’s ribs. Wedged in tightly, the sword is
pulled from his hands as the man falls to the ground.

Jiron, now fighting the sole remaining man,
captures his sword between his knives and kicks out, catching him
in the groin. With a groan the man’s strength leaves him for but a
moment which is all the time Jiron needs. A quick twist of his
knives and the sword is wrenched out of the man’s hands and sent
flying across the courtyard.

Jiron steps back from him just as a
longsword strikes out, taking the man’s head from his shoulders.
Glancing to the side, he sees the Parvati move to where his
shortsword is still embedded in the dead man’s chest. Placing a
foot on the dead man, he draws out his sword. Wiping both swords
clean on his opponent’s clothes, he turns to see Jiron staring at
him.

“Thank you my friend,” the Parvati says.

Jiron only nods as Fifer comes to him and
says, “We’ve got to get out of here!”

From around them they can hear the shouts
and running of feet as the city guard races into the courtyard. Out
of the corner of his eye, he sees the man with which he made the
bet on the outcome of the fight. Running over to him, he asks,
“Where’s my money!”

“What money?” the man asks.

“I won so where’s the money you owe me?” he
demands.

Giving him a sardonic smile, the man says,
“Your winning the bet was contingent on you winning the fight.”
Nodding to the approaching Parvati, he adds, “He’s still alive so
you didn’t win.”

“But…” he begins when Fifer grabs his arm.
“We can’t stay here!” As Fifer drags him away, the man’s laughter
follows him.

Suddenly from across the courtyard, men of
the city guard begin pouring in from a side alley. “Guards!” cries
out Fifer as all three of them bolt for an alleyway on the opposite
side of the courtyard.

“Just a second!” he says as he alters his
course slightly and heads over to the pavilion.

“What are you doing?” yells Fifer. The
guards are coming fast toward them, one of them yells, “Halt! Stay
where you are!”

Jiron reaches the pavilion and grabs
something off the ground before turning to head for the alleyway
where Fifer and the Parvati are waiting for him. With a quick
glance back at the approaching guards, he enters the alley. Racing
down to the other side, they pray they can prevent being
caught.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Startled out of a deep sleep, James sits up
in the dark. At first not sure just what awoke him.

Knock! Knock! Knock!

Again the incessant knocking upon his door
thunders through the night. Getting out of bed, he notices the
knocking hasn’t bothered his friend Dave who is still snoring
blissfully. Dave always had been a deep sleeper. In a sleepy haze,
he makes his way over to the door.

He snaps completely awake when on the other
side of the door he finds a squad of the castle guard standing in
the hallway. “Are you James?” the officer in charge asks.

“Yes,” he replies.

“You’re under arrest,” he says.

“What?” he exclaims in disbelief. “What
for?”

“I wasn’t told that,” the officer replies.
“Now, please come with us.”

“Let me at least get dressed first,” he
says.

The officer glances at him standing there in
his small clothes and nods. As James begins closing the door, the
officer pushes it back open with his hand and enters. Several of
his guards come in as well.

“What’s going on,” a groggy Dave asks from
where he just woke up.

“I’m being arrested!” states James as he
begins dressing.

“Arrested?” asks Dave, coming full awake.
“Why in the hell are they arresting you?”

“I don’t know,” he says.

A commotion begins out in the hallway and
then he hears Illan’s voice say, “James!”

“Illan,” he hollers out to him. “They’re
arresting me!”

“Let me through,” he hears him say to the
guards blocking his way into the room. One of the guards out in the
hallway glances inside and when he receives a nod from his officer,
steps aside and allows Illan to come in.

To the officer, he asks, “What’s going on
here?”

Nodding to James, he replies, “He’s being
placed under arrest.”

“By whose order?” asks Illan.

“By order of the Royal Court,” the officer
says.

“Why?”

“He won’t say or doesn’t know,” James tells
him. Finally dressed, he glances into the worried eyes of Dave and
says, “Stay with Illan. I’m sure we’ll have this all cleared up in
no time.”

“Okay,” he says.

Escorted out of the room, the guards fall in
place around him as they lead him down the hallway. As he leaves
the room, he sees a worried and anxious Miko standing in the hall
not more than a few feet away.

“James?” he asks, fearfully.

“Don’t worry,” he assures his friend. “I’m
sure this is all a big misunderstanding.”

“I hope so,” he says as Illan comes out of
the room and they watch him being led away. Just as he begins
descending the stairs, he hears Miko holler, “Don’t eat
anything!”

Don’t eat anything.
That’s good
advice. On a previous occasion back in Lythylla, he had eaten food
laced with a narcotic which rendered his magical abilities useless.
He may get hungry, but he really doesn’t plan on eating or drinking
anything while he’s incarcerated. He just may need his magic
working.

Outside the inn, their party turns down the
street toward the gate leading into the castle area. The streets
are filled with soldiers and guards. “What’s going on?” James asks
his guards.

Unresponsive, they ignore his question as
they continue marching on toward the gates. Once past, he’s led
across the courtyard and through the gates of the castle
itself.

The flurry of activity within the castle is
even more harried than that which was witnessed outside. Pages are
racing through the halls and men-at-arms are stationed
everywhere.

Instead of taking him to the Royal Court as
he at first expected, they take him through a different set of
hallways and finally down a flight of steps into what has to be the
castle’s dungeon.

At the bottom of the stairs lies a room with
several holding cells for prisoners. Currently they’re all empty
though they look as if they could hold several hundred in a pinch.
They move to the first pen and one of the guards opens the cell
door. The guard behind James pushes him on the back, indicating for
him to enter.

Seeing no benefit to resisting at this time,
he acquiesces and walks forward. Turning around to face his guards
as they close and lock the door, he sees them about to leave and
asks, “Can you at least leave me a torch for light?”

One of the guards gives him a look of
contempt and says, “You’re supposed to be some fancy mage, why
don’t you make your own light?” His fellows all begin chuckling and
laughing at that.

Shrugging, James says, “Very well.”
Suddenly, the entire area is filled with a blinding white light as
dozens of extremely bright orbs blossom into life throughout the
room.

The reaction from the guards is all he could
hope for when they turn tale and run out of the room. Chuckling to
himself as the last man runs up the stairs leaving him alone, he
cancels the spell. The darkness of the holding area lasts but
briefly before his normal glowing orb springs to life next to him
on the bench. He leans back and tries to get comfortable.

Smiling to himself, he feels under his shirt
and rubs the slug belt he had put on when he got dressed to come
here. The guards hadn’t even realized what it was. Alone in the
dark, he ponders why he’s here and waits.

After James and his escort of guards goes
down the stairs, Illan gestures Miko to follow him into James’ room
and close the door.