Island of Darkness (22 page)

“That is what I thought at first,” Lyra said. “I wondered how I could have so poorly misjudged a man. That was before I learned that such a thing just happened recently in Khadora. A magician took over a lord’s body and brought Jiadin warriors into Khadora from Fakara. As with the Katana, the man looked the same, but his actions were the opposite of what people expected him to do.”

“That is probably just a tale,” Mayor Reaker shook his head.

“No,” declared General Manitow. “I heard reports about the Jiadin in Khadora. They were indeed invited into Khadora by rogue lords. General Valdey mentioned something about it being a wise time to invade Khadora while they were preoccupied elsewhere.”

“Why didn’t we attack?” asked the mayor.

“The Katana’s Council forbade any such talk,” replied the general. “They said that we were a nation at peace and that we were going to stay that way.”

“And who was leading the Katana’s Council that spoke so elegantly for peace?” questioned Lyra with a victorious smile.

“First Minister Larst,” conceded the general. “Look, I will agree that attacking the Sakova makes absolutely no sense to me. And that is coming from a military man, but I am not the one making the decisions.”

“But you are the decision maker for a thousand men,” countered Lyra. “A thousand men and many thousands of Omungan citizens.”

“I only lead them,” sighed the general. “What is it that you expect me to do? Sacrifice my men to General Romero’s army?”

“Never,” Lyra shook her head vigorously, “but there are other ways.”

“What other ways?” asked Mayor Reaker.

“Stall and delay,” answered Lyra. “I will keep this city flush with food for your men and your citizens. General Romero’s troops will have none. How is he going to feed his ten thousand men if you refuse to let him enter the city without proof that his orders come directly from the Katana?”

“That is treason,” balked the general. “I might as well hang myself.”

“How is that treason?” retorted Lyra. “You just said yourself that the orders make absolutely no sense from a military standpoint. Would you not be remiss in not demanding verification of such ridiculous orders?”

“You are good,” grinned the mayor as he looked at the Star. “We could not possibly let ten thousand men into a starving city. They would eat all the food meant for the citizens. Everything would be gone in a day.”

“But General Romero will demand entrance to the city,” the general shook his head. “He will see the abundant stores of food.”

“Only if he gets this far,” argued the mayor. “This is something that we can do, General.”

“How?” asked General Manitow.

“The mage Temiker has a plan for revitalizing our farms,” explained the mayor. “The plan requires the burning of diseased fields, which means all of them. We also have to build large fences to halt the spread of the disease to the new fields. He has asked for the help of the citizens. I have agreed.”

“I don’t see how this helps with General Romero,” frowned the general. “It may help in the long term with our food supply, but there is no long term if his army arrives here.”

“Think in terms of strategic deceit, General,” grinned the mayor. “General Romero is going to see league upon league of burnt fields as he approaches the city. His army will have absolutely nothing to eat. Not even diseased grain.”

“That is not deceit,” Lyra pointed out.

“No,” agreed the mayor, “but the mounds and mounds of freshly turned dirt will deceive him. What he will see as he travels towards us is burning fields followed by burnt fields with what appears to be massive graves.”

“Disease of the people?” gasped the general as he began to see the picture that the mayor was painting. “He will think our own region is diseased and dying. Only a fool would continue marching his army into such an area.”

“Regardless of his orders,” the mayor nodded enthusiastically. “He may be willing to sacrifice some men by sending them to see what is up ahead, but he will not bring his army to Alamar.”

“We can either turn his scouts back, or hold them for questioning,” nodded the general. “This can work, and we will not have to speak a single untruth. We can let General Romero evaluate what he sees for himself.”

“The Sakovans can help persuade him to reverse directions,” offered Lyra. “If the armies coming into the Sakova from the west run into problems, the Katana will need reinforcements. General Romero’s army will be idle.”

“He will be recalled,” nodded the general. “How does that help your people? You will still end up with the same number of troops invading the Sakova.”

“One problem at a time,” answered Lyra. “Perhaps if I can keep the Omungan armies moving around the country long enough, someone in Okata will find out that the Katana is not really Larst. There is little hope for peace until that happens.”

“I hope you can find a way to expose him,” sympathized the mayor. “I am beginning to appreciate our Sakovan neighbors. I would not want to see you wiped out.”

“Oh, we will not be wiped out,” promised Lyra. “If it comes to war, our armies will prevail. I am trying to promote peace because it is in everyone’s best interests.”

“Prevail?” echoed the general. “Surely, you are joking?”

“Not in the least,” replied Lyra. “Every Sakovan learns to fight at a young age. Every man, woman, and child will fight for their lives. They will never surrender. The Sakovan people have trained for this day for a thousand years, General. We have fervently tried to avoid it, but we are more than capable of defending our homeland. Thousands upon thousands of young Omungan soldiers will die needlessly. Work with me to avoid such a catastrophe for your people.”

“I know of one thousand who will not be invading the Sakova,” declared the general. “Do not ask me to go further than that.”

“All I can ask of any leader is to think about what is best for the people in his care,” Lyra replied.

The large chamber was silent as were the tunnels that ran out of it. The large wheel had remained motionless for hours, and the rope holding the buckets was unmoving. Twenty paces above the floor of the chamber, Mistake’s eyes were closed as she rested her head on her arms. MistyTrail grew impatient waiting for the elf to return. Her mind wandered aimlessly. She thought about the sinking of the boat, and the strange guardhouse on the beach, but mostly she thought about her friends still in the Sakova. She missed them and wondered why she was where she was.

A soft and distant padding dragged MistyTrail away from her thoughts. She peered into the large chamber and tried to determine where the sound was coming from. The sound echoed lightly off the rock walls, masking the true directions, but MistyTrail knew they were coming closer. She gently touched Mistake to wake her up. Mistake’s eyes popped open, and she raised her head. She heard the soft sounds immediately. Her eyes focused on the tunnel that Eltor had disappeared into hours ago. She watched as Eltor came into view.

Eltor paused where the tunnel entered the large chamber. He looked around nervously before entering the room. Mistake immediately wrapped the rope around herself and braced her feet on the rock as she had for her sister. MistyTrail grinned broadly at Mistake as she took the coil of rope and threw it over the edge. The rope fell silently with only a light thud as the end hit the floor. Eltor immediately focused on the rope. His eyes followed the rope upward until he saw MistyTrail looking down at him. He walked cautiously to the rope and gazed upward.

“Who are you?” he asked.

His voice was barely audible and MistyTrail frowned. She had expected him to climb the rope. She wove an air tunnel towards Eltor and spoke softly into it.

“Climb up,” she urged. “You don’t want to be caught.”

“Who are you?” Eltor repeated stubbornly.

“I am MistyTrail,” she answered. “I am here to rescue you.”

“I don’t think so,” Eltor shook his head. “I think you are trying to lure me into escaping. I will stay here.”

“Why would we lie to you?” MistyTrail asked with exasperation.

“To make an example of me,” retorted Eltor. “I may be new to the mines, but I was not born yesterday. I have already heard the tales of people trying to escape. I will not be the next one tortured. I have learned my lesson.”

“What are you talking about?” scowled MistyTrail. “We have waited all day for you.”

“We?” asked Eltor. “So there are others in this plot?”

“My sister, Mistake, is with me,” answered MistyTrail. “She is holding the rope. Why do you think we would lure you up here?”

“To get me whipped,” replied Eltor.

“Would you not get whipped for standing down there talking to us?” asked MistyTrail.

Eltor’s face clouded, and MistyTrail grinned.

“So to get you whipped all we would have to do is scream to get someone’s attention?” surmised the Sakovan. “Then it would be foolish of us to risk our lives trying to lure you up here. Either you climb the rope, or we are leaving. The choice is yours, but make it quickly.”

Eltor stood unmoving for a moment. He was still skeptical, but he was more curious to find who the women were. He grabbed the rope and climbed up to the ledge. MistyTrail immediately pulled the rope up. Eltor stared at MistyTrail’s face, and the pale of confusion on his own became more noticeable.

“You are an elf,” Eltor said with surprise. “Why did you not say so?”

“Am I?” replied MistyTrail as her hand reached out and touched Eltor’s ear. “I thought the elves died off ages ago?”

“How could you believe such a thing?” asked Eltor as Mistake unwrapped the rope from around her body. “Are you not from Elvangar?”

“Elvangar?” echoed Mistake. “Where is that?”

“Ah,” sighed Eltor. “You were born on this island. Still, your parents should have taught of our homeland. How have you remained ignorant for so long? Have you grown up in this cave?”

“Island?” asked MistyTrail. “This is an island?”

“Now you are making fun of me,” scowled Eltor. “Give me the rope that I might go back to my bed and get some sleep. I have no need of games when much work will be required of me in the morning.”

“We are not playing games,” responded Mistake. “I am from Fakara, and MistyTrail is from Omunga. Our ship was sunk in a storm. We swam to shore, but we do not know where we are. Is this really an island?”

“The island of Motanga,” replied Eltor as he studied Mistake’s face for a hint of humor or deceit. “What kind of names are those? They are not elven names.”

“Our names were given to us by those who brought us up,” answered MistyTrail. “We did not know that we were related to elves. In fact, I did not believe in elves until I saw you.”

“How is that possible?” frowned Eltor. “I know of no elves except for Elvangar and the hapless ones who were captured near this island. I have never heard of Fakara or Omunga. Where do these places exist?”

“We are not sure where they are in relation to this island,” admitted Mistake. “We were trying to sail from Omunga to Fakara when the storm hit. Who lives on this island?”

“Why do they try to capture people?” asked MistyTrail.

“These people are evil,” frowned Eltor. “You are fortunate not to have been caught. How did you get in here? There are metal gates stopping us from getting out.”

“Not up here,” offered MistyTrail. “We crawled into a small cave to sleep for the night. We heard noises and decided to explore. We ended up here and saw your ears.”

“You can leave this place with us,” suggested Mistake. “Maybe you can help us get home.”

“I cannot leave here,” Eltor shook his head. “They will know if I am gone. Then the kruls will be sent to track me down.”

“Kruls?” echoed Mistake. “What are they?”

“Did you not see the kruls today?” questioned Eltor. “They are the ones who move the great wheel.”

“The apes?” asked Mistake.

“Yes,” nodded Eltor, “except they are not apes. At least they are not apes any more. They were created by magic. They can smell elves very far away. Even if I left here tonight, I would be captured by tomorrow. You would be captured along with me. I cannot leave.”

“We passed kruls yesterday,” retorted MistyTrail. “They were very close and did not smell us. They were cutting down huge trees.”

“For the shipyards,” replied Eltor. “The Motangans are building a great navy. I used to work there with my friend, Caldal. The kruls smell elves all over the island. They will not react to the smell until an alarm is issued. Then they will hunt endlessly until the runaways are found.”

“What happens when the runaways are caught?” asked Mistake.

“Bad things,” frowned Eltor. “The kruls might eat them. If they do not, the runaways are punished harshly to set an example for the rest. Some of them will dive into the pit if they get the chance. Better to die quickly than suffer the punishments that are inflicted.”

“The pit?” inquired MistyTrail. “What is that?”

“That hole down there,” Eltor pointed to the hole in the center of the wheel where the ropes carried the buckets. “No one has ever reached the bottom and come back up. Some say it is endless.”

“You mean they jump into the hole?” asked Mistake. “Can’t they just ride the buckets back up?”

“The buckets do not go to the bottom,” explained Eltor. “There are numerous levels of mines, but there is a great void beyond the lowest reach of the buckets. They say it is an old vent from a volcano.”

“Would they sound the alarm if they thought you were dead?” questioned Mistake.

“What do you mean?” squinted Eltor. “Why would they think that?”

“Would they?” pushed MistyTrail.

“Of course not,” replied Eltor. “Why would they search for someone who is dead?”

“If you were dead, would you come with us?” asked Mistake.

MistyTrail laughed softly, and Eltor looked confusingly from one sister to the other.

“What Mistake is suggesting,” grinned MistyTrail, “is that you appear to die tonight. No alarm will be sounded, and the kruls will not search for you. If that were possible, would you come with us?”

“Go with you where?” asked Eltor. “You are in constant danger on this island. You may be free today, but they will catch you. If you are lucky, you will end up in the mines with me.”