Island of Darkness (11 page)

“There are not any seats in this old boat,” complained MistyTrail as she sat on the floor. “How long will this trip take?”

“I don’t know,” shrugged Mistake as she looked down and saw an overturned bucket.

She sat on the bucket and turned to watch the shoreline receding.

“We are making good speed,” Mistake commented. “You keep an eye out for land in front of us.”

“I don’t think we will see it just yet,” replied MistyTrail. “I have seen a map before, and I think Fakara is a long ways off.”

“But we are moving quickly,” countered Mistake as she watched the sail fill with wind. “I bet we will be there before we know it.”

Marak heard soft voices not too far away. He opened his eyes and stared into the darkness. As he turned his head to the side, he saw that he was in the entry foyer of the old temple. Two figures sat outside the doorway around a fire. He sat up and stretched, feeling slightly sore all over. With a yawn, Marak rose and stepped out the door. Ukaro and Tmundo immediately turned to stare at him.

“I feel like I have slept for hours,” remarked Marak as he walked down the stairs and sat on a log near the fire. “Is that tea?”

Ukaro nodded and poured him a cup. “You had me worried, son,” Ukaro said as he handed the cup to Marak. “What happened in there?”

“I guess I fell asleep,” shrugged Marak. “I had such strange dreams. Why are you here, Tmundo?”

“I became concerned when you did not return,” answered the Kywara leader. “I felt that I should travel here to find if anything was wrong.”

“I wasn’t aware that our speedy return was of importance,” shrugged Marak. “You said that you would send a runner to Fardale to tell them that I would be away for a few days.”

“It has already been a few days,” Ukaro said as he stared at his son. “You must be hungry. I will get you some food.”

“A few days?” echoed Marak with a puzzled frown. “That is not possible.”

“With Kaltara,” replied Tmundo, “anything is possible. Tell us about your dreams.”

Marak sat silently for a few minutes as he felt the warmth of the tea invade his body. He thought back on his experience in the temple as his body began to feel alive again.

“I can’t really say that they were dreams,” Marak finally said. “I had visions, but they began before I fell asleep. So many visions. Kaltara should have warned me.”

“Kaltara spoke to you?” asked Tmundo.

“And I to him,” nodded Marak. “He was not happy that I had failed to talk to him sooner.”

“Did he call you the Torak?” asked Ukaro.

“After a while,” nodded Marak. “He wanted to be sure that I was committed to this struggle. He said that I would leave the temple as the Torak.”

“Praise Kaltara!” Ukaro said joyously as he handed Marak a bowl of stew. “What else did he say?”

“What he showed me said more than his words,” answered the Torak. “He did say that Vand is a man like you and I. It will be up to men to destroy him.”

“Meaning that it will be up to you, Torak,” interrupted Tmundo.

“No,” Marak shook his head. “It will take more than just me to defeat Vand. I learned much through the visions, but one thing stands out starkly. The flatlanders and the Chula are brothers.”

“Brothers?” Tmundo echoed with distaste. “How can that be?”

“Vand lived in this land thousands of years ago,” Marak stated. “He gathered the people of this land to himself and proclaimed that he was a god. Kaltara smote millions of his people, but Vand and others fled across the seas. The people that you call invaders are actually some of Vand’s followers rebelling against his dark magic and fleeing to these shores once again.”

“You mean some of them fled back home?” questioned Ukaro. “Why then did they not embrace us as brothers instead of trying to annihilate us?”

“A thousand years had passed since their exodus from these lands,” explained Marak. “They had no idea what land they were conquering. I doubt they would have acted differently if they had known. They fled in fear.”

“What could cause such fear in mighty warriors?” inquired Tmundo.

“I don’t know,” admitted Marak, “but I felt their fear. Believe me when I say that death was welcomed over whatever other fate awaited them. I have never experienced such fear in my life. It is hard for me to imagine what could cause it, but Kaltara made me feel it.”

“So your desire for the Chula to help the flatlanders is what Kaltara wants as well,” Tmundo said with resignation. “Then let it be so. We will teach your mages what they must know. It will require your help to merge our two civilizations in to one. Do not expect that task to be easy.”

“It will not be easy,” Marak acknowledged. “I will need help every step of the way. The first step is solving the problem of the food supply.”

“I will leave for Omunga from here,” offered Ukaro. “This temple is close to the border. Returning to the village would only waste time.”

“And I will escort the Torak back to the village,” promised Tmundo

Marak did not respond. His mind was still replaying the vivid images that were now a permanent part of his memory. He searched those memories for anything that would help him prepare for the coming invasion.

* * *

“Come in, StarWind,” smiled Lyra. “What do you want?”

 “Another message from SunChaser,” reported StarWind as she sat in a chair before the desk. “Larst has ordered his generals to present a plan for conquering the Sakova. I think an invasion is imminent.”

“How could I have been so wrong about him?” fumed the Star of Sakova. “He helped us leave Okata when Alazar was killed. I have met with him several times, and each time I felt the desire to trust him. Where did I let my people down?”

“I am not sure that you have,” sighed the Sakovan spymaster. “SunChaser also reported that many people are surprised by Larst’s change of heart. There are rumors floating around in official circles that Larst is not himself. Of course, these thoughts are expressed in a humorous manner, for to say such a thing seriously would be treason.”

“Is that possible?” questioned Lyra. “If so, who is capable of such a feat?”

“I don’t know if it is possible,” admitted StarWind. “I can only report what I have heard. I can make some inquires about it. I will let you know what I find out.”

“We need to review our plans for resisting an attack by the Omungans,” declared Lyra. “Can you set up a meeting here in the palace? I want everyone’s input.”

“I will see to it,” nodded StarWind. “We have another caravan heading for Alamar. Do you want me to have it turn around?”

Lyra stared at the wall map for several minutes before responding.

“No,” Lyra replied. “Those people are still starving. I will not punish them for the words of politicians in Okata. Make sure that our people with the caravans know about the increased danger. They are to use their own wits if a situation arises. I will not sacrifice Sakovans to feed the Omungans, but short of a direct attack, the caravans will continue.”

“It shall be as you say,” nodded StarWind as she rose and left the office.

* * *

MistyTrail gazed over the water at the setting sun. The surface of the sea was smooth as a finely cut block of stone. She frowned as she looked upward the limp sail hanging around the mast.

“Isn’t there any way to make us go?” she asked Mistake.

“There isn’t enough wind to blow a hair away from your face,” Mistake shook her head. “The other boat had oars to row with, but this one has nothing.”

“I thought you were a sailor,” snapped MistyTrail. “Instead of being in Fakara, we are sitting in the middle of nowhere. Three days we have been on this boat, and there is not a speck of land visible in any direction. We haven’t seen land since we left Omunga. Do you even know where we are?”

“No,” admitted Mistake. “I thought all we had to do was sail northeast until we got to Fakara. Maybe when the wind changed directions it drove us past Fakara.”

“Why didn’t we just follow the coast?” complained MistyTrail. “At least then we would know where the land is. Didn’t you father teach you any navigation?”

“My father taught me nothing,” Mistake spat bitterly. “He died when I was quite young. I never set a foot on his boat. The first boat trip I was ever on was the one from Fakara to Khadora to meet with Lord Marak.”

“You don’t know anything about sailing?” gasped MistyTrail. “We are lost at sea, and you don’t know anything about sailing? What are we going to do?”

“Complaining about it won’t make it any better,” retorted Mistake. “We should conserve our food and water. It will be dark soon. Let’s get some sleep. Maybe the winds will pick up in the morning.”

“Maybe,” countered MistyTrail, “but what direction will they be blowing? We are going to die out here like we should have in the Year of the Storm.”

“At least we will be together this time,” mumbled Mistake as she curled up on the floor of the boat.

* * *

“Have a seat in the laboratory, and I will bring you some food,” Lady Mystic called from the kitchen.

Aakuta moved a chair to the table and swept aside the beakers to clear a spot on the table. He shook his head as he sat down.

“What is all this junk on the table?” he asked as Lady Mystic entered the room with a bowl of soup.

“Experiments,” Lady Mystic replied. “I spend quite a bit of time with this junk, as you call it.”

Her tone left no doubt that she was offended by Aakuta’s description of her experiments as junk.

“Potions and elixirs?” scoffed Aakuta. “I would not think that someone of your intellect would be bothered with such nonsense.”

“Would be bothered?” huffed Lady Mystic. “Don’t go getting boring on me now, Aakuta. Magical power alone is all well and good when you are there to affect the outcome, but what if you are needed in more than one place at the same time?”

“I would rethink my priorities,” shrugged Aakuta. “Not everything is so important that it demands immediate attention.”

“Hmmph,” countered Lady Mystic. “Here is one for you,” she said as she lifted a beaker off the table. “This concoction is very close to replacing the lygrim fruit. I am sure that you have heard of the lygrim? It produces incredible stamina and strength, but it has the penalty of deep sleep after its use. I am refining a recipe that will yield the same benefits without the nasty side effects.”

“Hmm,” mumbled the dark mage.

“And this one,” Lady Mystic continued as she picked up another beaker. “This one will cause the victim’s skin to peel off. It is a most excruciatingly painful death. It’s very good for gaining cooperation of villagers. One example made of its power, and the threat to poison the well with it, and all of a sudden everyone wants to cooperate.”

“Child’s play,” scoffed Aakuta. “I can’t possibly imagine you needing the help of villagers.”

“Well,” sighed Lady Mystic, “how about this one then? Let this liquid mist in a wind of any magnitude, and all of the crops and animals downwind will become diseased. The disease will spread like a forest fire.”

“I think you just have too much time on your hands,” declared Aakuta.

“Could be,” admitted Lady Mystic. “It really has been boring around here lately. I do expect you to liven things up a bit. Perhaps today is the day to introduce you to Vand.”

“Just how are you going to arrange for me to meet him?” questioned Aakuta. “I doubt that he lets just anyone walk in off the street and say hello.”

Lady Mystic just smiled. “Put your hood up,” she said. “I don’t want anyone to see your face.”

Aakuta put down his soupspoon and pulled his hood over his head. He stood up and shoved the chair under the table. Lady Mystic smiled mischievously as she opened the door to the alley. After Aakuta exited the building, she waved her hand over the door to seal it.

Lady Mystic led the way through the streets of the city. She did not move along the narrow streets with shops as she had the other day, but kept to the broad avenues. As she turned onto a wide street leading uphill to the pyramid, Aakuta began to see the city in a different light.

Hundreds of soldiers were visible. Some lined the streets watching each passerby. Others directed caravans of kruls who were hauling large wagons of felled trees towards the shipyard and the mills that surrounded it. Patrols were coming from the pyramid as well as returning to it. The array of soldiers made the street appear as the entrance to a fortress rather than a temple.

“I hope there is a back way into this temple,” Aakuta said softly as he noticed some of the soldiers watching him.

“The rear entrance is for those who are to be sacrificed,” smiled Lady Mystic. “Are you sure you would like to use it? I could arrange it.”

One of Aakuta’s eyebrows rose, although no one could see it through his hood. “Perhaps a nighttime entrance with a suitable diversion would be better,” he said. “Is there any chance that you can get us through the front entrance?”

“I will get you inside,” smiled Lady Mystic. “Getting out will be your own problem.”

Lady Mystic’s smile was beginning to grate on Aakuta’s nerves. While he was grateful for the sanctuary that she had provided, he began to wonder if linking up with her had been a mistake.

As they neared the temple, the street turned into a broad expanse of steps leading up to the entrance door. Two soldiers manned every third step, one on each side. Aakuta frowned as the soldiers bowed slightly as they passed. He looked around nervously to see if he could abort the intended visit and sighed when he realized that it was far too late for such an option.

When they reached the top step of the long flight or stairs, two soldiers opened the wide doors without anyone asking them to. They also bowed as he and Lady Mystic passed by. Once they were inside the doors, Aakuta recognized the layout of the temple. It was identical to the Vandegar Temple in Fakara, except that it was pristinely maintained.

Lady Mystic led the way to the large atrium in the center of the structure. Aakuta gazed upward at the exposed edges of the many levels above him. Soldiers and black-hooded men were everywhere. Lady Mystic headed for the stairs, and Aakuta knew exactly where she was going. Climbing the stairs to the top level of the pyramid took a long time, and Aakuta had a chance to dwell upon how he would interact with Vand. Perspiration began to dampen Aakuta’s cloak and he cast a minor spell to halt the annoyance. As they reached the top level, Lady Mystic halted to catch her breath. She leaned on the rail and gazed down to the atrium’s floor.