Champion: Part XIX

"Well, now what do we do?"

The morning after the storm had dawned crisp and bright. The warm sun bathed the cloth-wrapped body of Jhalid in its light as the four young men stood around it. Marcus and Timmons had brought it in shortly before midnight, leaving it in a small shed outside the house at the frantic insistence of the farmer's wife. But this morning, after a hearty breakfast, they'd carried the body out on a plank. After setting it down, Timmons had asked the obvious questions.

"Is he dead; I mean, truly? He'll not rise up in his sheets and kill folk like those barrow-wights Harold told us about?"

Ian examined the body closely with that sight his elven blood and abilities gave him. "There's no trace of magic, no taint of evil. Yes, he's well and truly dead. And the Scroll is missing."

"It's most like destroyed, if it was washed away in that storm." Diego gestured towards where the creek now held a low level of water. "If it's still in there, it's a wad of soaked parchment."

"There's the problem: if it's still in there. Do we want to take that chance, ride off and then have it be able to take control of some innocent like these folk?" Ian nodded his head towards the farmer and his family who were milling uneasily around in front of the farmhouse. Some child cried out as it saw Ian's movement. The half-elf frowned. "No, we have to be sure. We'll search the creek. I think I know how we might be able to it. Meanwhile, I'll ask our host to give Jhalid a burial.

"Let me ask him." Timmons stepped closer. "Begging your pardon, but it might go easier if I ask him. Plain to see you and Diego here are nobles. They'd do it but I doubt they'd be happy about it and might even take it out on Jhalid's body. Me, I'm common folk to the bone. It'll come better from me, asking a place for a poor dead bastard to rest in peace. That, and a little compensation." He held out his hand, and nodding, Ian dropped some coins into it to be given the farmer. He added a few more for the hospitality shown, and Timmons walked away to make the request.

**********

An hour later, the four searchers were riding slowly down the middle of the creek bed. They'd entered it from the point of Jhalid's attack, searching the bank down to the water's edge. Ian had done so with leather scroll case in hand, hoping the Scroll of Light might be pulled towards its evil counterpart. Now, as they rode, he held it out ahead as if pointing a sword, augmenting his search with that elven sight once more, Marcus riding next to him to grab him if he seemed ready to fall. Diego and Timmons meanwhile rode off to either side of the bed, visually searching the rocks and bushes where the scroll might be entangled.

"Where is it?" Ian chanced a thought towards Yussuf. "Did someone find it?"

The voice, when it came, was a whisper in Ian's mind. "Not yet. It is near, But it is hiding itself. It feels me growing closer."

"Can we find it? What can we do?"

"Pray."

Ian scowled. "I've no faith in gods."

"Fine. Then let me."

Blackthorn's horse suddenly halted as the half-elf held the scroll in his hand towards the sky and started to speak in words none of the others understood. But it was Yussuf who spoke through Ian's voice:

Baga vazrak Auramazdâ, hya im
âm bumâm, adâ hya avam asm
ânam adâ hya martiyam adâ hya
shiyâtim adâ martiyahyâ !

A great god is Ahuramazda, who created
this earth, who created yonder sky,
who created man, who created happiness for man!

The Scroll of Light seemed to glow, the light not blinding Ian and his companions, but warming them, and illuminating the world around then in such a way that everything seemed clean and fresh. Again that prayer sounded from Ian's lips, and a flame seemed to spring into being in mid-air. It hung there in front of them, and then floated off, down stream. A few yards it stopped, then suddenly darted for the left bank and straight at a bush. At the same time, Ian's arm swung the Scroll at the same spot. "Baga vazrak Auramazdâ!"

The flame seemed to spread in a circle, as if burning at something, then it flared and disappeared.

There, hanging from a strap tangled in a branch, was a scroll case.

The Scroll of Darkness had been found.

********

While Ian secured the two Scrolls in his saddle bags, the three others exchanged looks. None of them recognized the words Blackthorn had shouted, and Marcus finally asked what they had meant. Ian answered immediately with a translation which may have made his fellows more at ease but did nothing for his own peace of mind. He was sure it was the language Yussuf and Zantar had spoken when alive. He accepted Yussuf had used him as an instrument It had been necessary. What did disturb him was his sudden mastery of Ancient Persian.

At any rate, with the Scrolls now reunited, the balance was restored. After a few hours rest, the party set off back towards Toledo. Diego led them away from the ravines and canyons. "We'll cut across to the main road between Castile and Toledo. We'll make faster time back on it."

But the storm of the previous night had caused some flooding in low spots along the way, and though they were able to pass them safely, the process did slow down. It was late afternoon when they noticed the large numbers of birds circling in the sky a mile or so ahead. Crows suddenly shot out of a ditch to the side of them. Marcus calmed his horse, then handed the reins to Timmons before walking over to investigate. He returned to the road with a sick look on his face.

"It's one of ours: Pedyr. Dead for a day or more."

Ian looked stricken. "He was on that guard detail wasn't he, with Harold?"

Marcus nodded. The three mercenaries had an idea what this must mean. Almost as one, they turned and looked at the scavengers aloft down the road ahead. They drew their swords, and rode grimly on.

Somewhere, a raven called.