Island of Darkness (2 page)

“We are here already?” Larst asked distractedly.

“We are,” replied the squad leader. “Please wait until my men have secured the area and searched the building.”

“That is hardly necessary,” shrugged the First Minister as he dismounted. “The Sakovans have shown that they harbor no ill will towards us. This is not my first meeting with Lyra, and it will not be my last. Have your men wait outside.”

Larst strode to the door of the small farmhouse and knocked loudly. The door opened immediately, and Lyra smiled at the Omungan.

“You are early,” greeted the Star of Sakova. “Please come in.”

“You are a ray of sunshine in this dreary day,” smiled Larst as he entered the farmhouse. “Did you travel here alone?”

“I am never permitted to travel alone,” replied Lyra as she led the First Minister into a small sitting room, “but we are alone in this house. We can speak honestly about the situation regarding our two nations.”

“That is refreshing,” Larst said as he sat down next to Lyra. “The Imperial Guards wanted to search the house before allowing me to enter. I suppose it will take a long time before our peoples can trust one another.”

“The history of our struggle is not so easily washed away,” agreed the Star of Sakova. “These meetings are historic. They mark the first generation to actually sit down and discuss our differences. It is exciting.”

“That is it,” nodded Larst as he gazed at the notes he had prepared for the meeting. “We have covered much in the last few meetings. I believe we left off in the last session while discussing a road through the Sakova. It would aid travel for Omungans seeking to reach the opposite coast. Have you thought about it?”

“I have,” nodded Lyra. “I think several roads will be permissible. A road from Gatong to Zaramilden would be fairly short and connect the two cities that are currently the farthest apart by existing roads. Another road from Campanil to Tanzaba, and one from Tanzaba to Breele, would make travel much easier for all Omungans.”

“That is much more than I had hoped for,” smiled the First Minister. “Zaramilden has long been cut off from the rest of Omunga by the Wall of Mermidion, and the other two roads would speed commerce greatly. Your offer will bring cheers from my people. No one will doubt the sincerity of the Sakovan desire for peace.”

“We are sincere about peace,” smiled Lyra. “Sakovans and Omungans will work side-by-side to build these roads. By the time they are completed, our peoples will have learned to trust one another.”

“Excellent,” beamed the First Minister. “What can we do in return for your offer?”

“We do not seek anything in return,” answered Lyra, “but I still have concerns about the Omungan army. I heard that General Didyk has recently journeyed to Khadora. The general has never embraced peace with Sakova. Do you know why he was in Khadora?”

“Didyk in Khadora?” frowned Larst. “This is the first that I have heard of it. I agree with your apprehensions. There is no valid reason for such a trip as far as I know. Are you sure about this?”

“I am positive,” nodded Lyra. “As you are aware, not too long ago some Omungans used the pretense of war with Khadora as an excuse to attack Sakovans. I do not wish to see that happen again.”

“Nor I,” Larst said adamantly. “I will look into this trip when I return to Okata. I will not allow our generals to foment trouble between our peoples. We have enough problems with this strange disease affecting our crops and animals. We do not need to add war to the mix.”

“Is the disease still spreading?” Lyra asked with concern.

“Rapidly,” nodded the First Minister. “It is unlike anything we have ever encountered. It not only infects our crops, but now our animals are dying. It has spread around the country like a flash fire. There is no part of Omunga that does not suffer from it now. I think the first priority of the new Katana will be to address the starvation of the people.”

“Has a new Katana been chosen yet?” questioned Lyra.

“Not yet,” Larst shook his head, “but I expect it to be addressed at tomorrow’s meeting of the Katana’s Council. The council’s search has been exhaustive this time. Every town and city has been questioned for nominees. The next Katana will truly represent the people of Omunga.”

“Excellent,” smiled Lyra. “There is little chance of someone like Alazar gaining control of Omunga then. He was a disaster for all of us. I would not be surprised to see your name at the top of that list, First Minister.”

“That has been mentioned,” blushed Larst. “I am humbled by such praise from my countrymen, but I will assume nothing until the council votes. Whoever is chosen, I will back him completely.”

“I am sure that you will,” nodded Lyra. “I would like a full report on this disease issue, if you can arrange that. Sakovan crops have not been stricken. Perhaps we can make food shipments to those areas that suffer the worst.”

“That would earn the Sakovans great praise from my people,” beamed the First Minister. “Still, I feel like our agreements are all one-sided. The Sakovans are always the givers, and the Omungans the receivers. This hardly seems fair.”

“Peace means more to the Sakovans than anything else you could offer,” smiled Lyra. “We are happy to help our peaceful neighbors in any way that we can. Do not feel as if these agreements are one-sided. We are very happy with what you are offering.”

Larst stood and bowed slightly to the Star of Sakova. “You are a wise leader, Lyra,” he said. “You have given me much to bring to the Katana’s Council tomorrow. We will see peace between our two countries. There is no other possibility when we can sit and work out agreements such as these. Have a safe trip back to your homeland.”

“I shall,” nodded Lyra as she rose. “When shall we meet again?”

“Much depends upon tomorrow’s council meeting,” pondered the First Minister. “If a new Katana is chosen, my schedule will be quite busy for the next fortnight or so. I will post a message as I have done in the past.”

“That will be fine,” agreed Lyra. “If you can get that report on the disease, post it as well. I will have someone pick it up.”

“I will do that before the sun sets today,” offered Larst as he reached the front door of the farmhouse.

The Star of Sakova watched as Larst mounted, and the Imperial Guards escorted him towards the road to Okata. As soon as the Omungans reached the road, two figures stepped out of the shadows near the barn. The two women hurried towards Lyra.

“How did it go?” asked SkyDancer. “It was a short meeting.”

“It did not need to be long,” smiled Lyra. “Larst is truly interested in peace. They may choose a new Katana tomorrow. I hope Larst is the one chosen. He will lead Omunga towards peace with Sakova.”

“The Imperial Guards were very upset with Larst for leaving them outside,” interjected StormSong. “They suspected a Sakovan ambush inside the farmhouse. The fools do not understand the power of our Star. You could have wiped out their entire squad without effort.”

“I prefer not to think in those terms,” frowned Lyra. “We must learn to look at things differently if we are to have peace with the Omungans. We must not always think in terms of defeating them.”

“That is just how StormSong evaluates everything,” chuckled SkyDancer. “To her, all of life is a battle.”

“Well that must change,” Lyra said sternly. “Peace requires many adjustments, and that includes our attitudes towards the Omungans. We must not think of them as adversaries any longer.”

“I want to see true peace before I let my guard down,” retorted StormSong. “We have never been able to trust the Omungans before. Why should this time be any different?”

“Because I want it to be,” sighed Lyra. “Go get our chokas. We will discuss your attitude on the ride back to StarCity.”

* * *

The First Minister of Omunga returned to his office in the Imperial Palace in Okata. His mood was jubilant as he reviewed the papers on his desk. Several other ministers had mentioned that they felt that he was to be nominated at the meeting in the morning. Larst found the thought of becoming the Holy Katana exciting. He would be in a position to truly affect change in the country, and one of the first things he would do would be to sign a peace treaty with the Sakovans. A knock on the door interrupted Larst’s musings.

“I am glad to find you here,” smiled Karnic as he entered the office. “I was looking for you all morning.”

“I had other things to attend to,” frowned the First Minister. “You have enjoyed a close relationship with me for months, Karnic. I have never let anyone know as much about me as I have told you.”

“Well,” smiled Karnic, “I must know all about you if I am to write an accurate history of your rule. I have heard that you will be chosen as Katana tomorrow. This is a big moment in your life. Why are you not celebrating?”

“Because I have to wonder who you are,” Larst replied bluntly. “I sent Imperial Guards to Zaramilden to inquire about you. Nobody has ever heard of you. How can that be?”

“Zaramilden?” echoed Karnic. “Why would you send anyone there to ask about me?”

“That is where you said you were from,” frowned Larst. “I do not like being lied to. What exactly are you up to?”

“I am a historian,” shrugged Karnic. “I told you this months ago. I fully intend to write your life story to preserve it for future generations. I am not surprised that no one in Zaramilden remembers me. I said I was born there, but that is not where I grew up. My family moved to Duran when I was but a babe.”

“Duran?” questioned the First Minister. “Why didn’t you explain that to me earlier? You led me to believe that you were from Zaramilden.”

“I never thought that I would be the topic of discussion,” shrugged Karnic. “I am merely a historian here to write about you. My life is insignificant in the scheme of things. If it will make you feel any better, please send the Imperial Guards to Duran and have them ask about me. I assure you that I am quite well known there.”

“Very well,” sighed Larst, as he appeared to dismiss the issue. “You do understand why I must verify your story. You have had unprecedented access to the First Minister of Omunga. While you have done nothing unusual for a historian, I have an obligation to make sure that you are who you say you are.”

“Absolutely,” Karnic nodded vigorously. “You would be remiss if you did not verify my credentials. Besides, now that I know about your investigation, I look forward to you receiving the report about me. While you have been very gracious to let me pry into your life, I am eager for you to understand that I am perhaps the most respected historian in the country. I have done histories for every major family in eastern Omunga. I am quite proud of my work.”

“Well,” smiled Larst, “you certainly do ask enough questions to accurately record a person’s life. Where did you hear about my potential nomination to become Katana?”

“Everyone in the palace is whispering about it,” grinned Karnic. “This search for a new Katana has been exhaustive. When you are chosen as the next leader of Omunga, you will be rightfully proud that you were chosen because you are the most qualified person in the country. That is something to be very pleased about.”

“I only seek to do the best that I can for Omunga,” Larst replied with a touch of embarrassment. “If I am chosen, I will devote my life to making Omunga a better place to live.”

“I have no doubt that you will succeed as Katana as you have succeeded in everything else you have done,” Karnic smiled politely. “I understand that the Katana is surrounded with special magical shields to protect him from assassins. When does that actually take place? And will I be permitted to record your comments during the process?”

“You are assuming a great deal,” countered Larst. “I have not been chosen yet.”

“Assuming that you are,” conceded Karnic.

“The use of magical shields to guard the Katana is well known,” replied Larst, “but the actual composition of the shields is a very closely guarded secret. I doubt that the Monitors will allow you to observe the procedure.”

“Well, a doubt can be overcome,” Karnic responded with optimism. “When does it occur? Is it right after the selection process?”

“Oh yes,” nodded Larst. “It is the first thing done to a new Katana. The Monitors take their task of protecting the Katana very seriously. The shields will be applied within minutes of the selection.”

“And that is likely to occur tomorrow morning?” mused Karnic. “Even if it is not you, it will be tomorrow that the decision is made. Isn’t that right?”

“That is the purpose of tomorrow’s meeting,” Larst nodded as his mind began to drift towards the meeting that would occur in the morning.

The room was silent for several moments as Larst thought about the upcoming meeting and the possibility of being chosen as the next Katana. Karnic walked over to the wall covered with bookshelves. He perused the numerous volumes that had been collected by First Ministers over the ages. He stopped and gazed at a particularly old volume. Its title suggested that it dealt with the genealogies of the early Omungans.

“Have you read all of these books?” Karnic asked, breaking the silence of the room.

“No,” the First Minister shook his head. “I have little time these days for reading. Why do you ask?”

“There are some valuable books in your collection,” responded Karnic. “A few of these are ancient.”

“They are the collection of the First Minister,” shrugged Larst. “I presume that they have been collected over the generations by every First Minister since the founding of Omunga. Their value is of no import. They will never be sold. They will remain here for the next First Minister.”

“As it should be,” nodded Karnic. “Still, they must be very interesting to read, like this old tome about the origins of the Sakovans.”

“The origin of the Sakovans?” echoed Larst. “I don’t remember seeing that one. It would be interesting to read. There is so little that we truly know about our neighbors.”

“It doesn’t look like it has ever been read,” Karnic commented as the First Minister started towards the bookshelves. “It must be as old as Omunga.”

“Then it would be a treasure indeed,” Larst said excitedly as he moved in front of Karnic and bent down to search the shelf. “Which one is it?”