Island of Darkness (4 page)

“Will they revolt?” questioned Lyra.

“I do not think so,” answered the Emperor. “Oh, there will be great dissent at first, but when the Emperor and the Lords’ Council agree on something, most of the lords will follow without question. They will grumble in private, but I do not expect anything to come of it. How is the situation down there?”

“Things are also amazing down here,” replied the Star of Sakova. “I have had several meetings with First Minister Larst. The meetings have been most agreeable, and I believe peace between the Sakovans and the Omungans is a certainty. Since our last meeting I have had news that Larst has been chosen Katana. With him leading the Omungan people, things are going to get much better here. There is one problem that I could use your help with.”

“I figured that you were using the air tunnel for a reason,” chuckled Marak. “What can I do for you?”

“The Omungan crops are suffering severally from some strange disease,” explained Lyra. “Their animals are also being affected. I have agreed to supply the worst hit areas of Omunga with food, but we will not have enough to feed everyone. I was wondering if you could start sending loaded ships down to us. We have sufficient gold on hand, and I am willing to pay a generous price for whatever you can send our way.”

“I will send what I can,” agreed Emperor Marak, “but I am not sure how much we can spare. Although our harvests have been greater than any other year, I have been using up our supply at an alarming rate. I have ships going to Fakara daily, and the north of Khadora has been hit with a plague of locusts. Our food supply is rapidly diminishing.”

“Locusts?” questioned the Star of Sakova. “Could they be magical?”

“Magical?” echoed Marak. “I suppose they could be. We are using mages to destroy them. Why do you ask?”

“I believe the disease afflicting Omunga is magical in nature,” answered Lyra. “Actually, that is the belief of Temiker. He has his students studying the issue right now.”

Emperor Marak was silent for several moments as he digested Lyra’s words.

“What are you thinking?” prompted Lyra.

“A dark question is making its way through my mind,” mumbled Emperor Marak. “We know that mages are being sent to foment trouble in each of the three countries that occupy this landmass. They have used our people to stir up trouble and tried to start wars. Is it too far of a stretch to think that they might also seek to destroy our ability to feed ourselves?”

“Oh no,” gasped Lyra. “Nothing would destroy our ability to resist their armies greater than a lack of food. What can we do about it?”

“I am not sure,” admitted Marak, “but we have to make plans immediately. Even if I am wrong about this, we must increase food production.”

“Or decrease consumption,” suggested Lyra. “Am I wrong to use our supplies to feed the Omungans?”

“No,” advised the Emperor. “You are using your food for good reasons. You are helping a starving people and gaining peace at the same time. No one will find fault with your decision. Kaltara is guiding you wisely.”

“At least until we run out of food completely,” sighed the Star of Sakova.

“We must make sure that that does not happen,” replied Emperor Marak. “I am glad that you caught me while I was in Fardale. I think that I will make inquiries while I am here. I will start sending supplies down to you as soon as I can. I will contact you to let you know when they will be arriving.”

“Thank you, Lord Marak,” Lyra responded. “I mean Emperor,” she added.

“Just Marak is fine,” laughed the Emperor. “Titles have never meant much to me between friends. My people here still call me Lord Marak. It is hard for them to adjust.”

“I can imagine,” smiled the Star of Sakova. “I will wait to hear from you.”

Emperor Marak signaled for the air mage to drop his end of the air tunnel. He stood silently for several moments in the office of Lord Marshal Yenga.

“I will be gone for a few days,” he finally announced as he turned and strode out of the office.

Marak walked out of the mansion and mounted a horse at the stables. He ignored the friendly calls to him as he rode out the gates and headed towards the Sitari Valley. His mind pursued solutions to the potential food crisis as he rode towards the Chula village. He was vaguely aware of the Chula warriors that ran alongside him in the forest, but he did not let them distract him. When he arrived at the Chula village, Tmundo was waiting for him.

“Favored son of the Zatong,” greeted Tmundo, “what brings the Torak home to the Chula?”

“I seek the counsel of a Chula shaman,” answered Marak.

“Then you are doubly fortunate,” smiled the leader of the Kywara tribe of Chula. “Your father is still residing with us. I will have both Rykoma and Ukaro join us. Please enter my hut and make yourself comfortable.”

The Torak nodded and entered the tribal leader’s hut. He had barely entered the hut when Tmundo returned with Rykoma and Marak’s Chula father. Ukaro grinned broadly as he crossed the floor and hugged his son. He broke the embrace and held Marak at arm’s length.

“Look at you,” Ukaro grinned. “You grow more powerful every time we meet. I have heard that the flatlanders have made you Emperor. Is this true?”

“Is nothing secret from the Chula,” chuckled Marak. “My own people in Fardale did not learn of it until I arrived. How do you do it?”

“The Chula have ears everywhere,” smiled Ukaro. “I am pleased that you still find time to visit with your true people.”

“I had not planned to visit,” Marak admitted with a frown as he moved away from his father and sat on the floor. “I have heard some news that distresses me. I need your counsel.”

The three Chula sat on the floor facing Marak.

“What is this news?” asked Rykoma, the Head Shaman for the Kywara tribe.

“I have just heard that a magical disease is spreading through Omunga,” related Marak. “The Sakovans asked me to ship large quantities of food to them. I am already feeding the Fakarans, and there is a locust plague in northern Khadora. The thought occurred to me that our true enemy is trying to starve us before the invasion.”

“That would not surprise me,” replied Ukaro, the Head Shaman of the Zatong tribe. “A lack of food would destroy your army quicker than battle. Look what it did to the Jiadin.”

“You seem to have thought this out already,” commented Rykoma. “Why are you here to ask us about it?”

“No one knows the magic of plants and animals better than the Chula,” Marak stated. “I have seen what your magic has done for my watula fields in Fardale. If you can make my fields produce more than ever before, you should be able to do the same for all Khadoran fields.”

“There are not enough Chula shaman to treat every field in Khadora,” Tmundo shook his head.

“You would not have to do treat every field in Khadora,” argued Marak. “I have thousands of mages in my service. Teach them what they need to know. I will send them out to magically treat the fields.”

“That is not possible,” scowled Tmundo. “I have told you before, the Chula do not share their magic with flatlanders. It is out of the question.”

“How dare you refuse him?” interrupted Ukaro.

“He is your son, Ukaro, not mine,” Tmundo retorted adamantly. “Chula magic is not to be shared. This is our law.”

“I am well familiar with our law,” countered Ukaro. “I do not ask the question of you because he is my son. I ask the question because Marak is the Torak. He is the holy leader of our people. You cannot deny him. His word is above the law. How dare you defy Kaltara?”

Tmundo’s jaw dropped as he stared at Ukaro. Slowly he nodded and closed his eyes.

“How quickly I forget such a gift from Kaltara,” sighed Tmundo. “I was thrilled that he finally sent us the promised Torak, and yet I still treat Marak as a flatlander. I apologize.”

Marak’s brow creased with confusion. “Then you will teach my people?” he asked.

“We will do whatever you require of us,” Rykoma said softly. “We may counsel you against certain things, like giving our magic knowledge to the flatlanders, but you are sent by Kaltara to save us. We cannot refuse your commands.”

“Then I have more to ask of you,” the Torak said as he realized his position. “I want the fields of Fakara to be renewed. I have heard tales of a new rebirth in a remote area of the Fakaran wasteland. I believe your magic may restore that desolate country.”

“We will have to train a great number of your mages,” remarked Rykoma. “I would like to visit Fakara before I train your people. I must understand the magics that were used to salt that soil.”

“Good,” nodded Marak. “I also want someone with great knowledge to investigate this disease in Omunga. I must know what I am up against before it is too late to adjust for it.”

“Will your mages take instructions from us?” asked Rykoma.

“They will do what I tell them to do,” nodded Marak. “I have many a skilled a mage in Fardale. They will learn quickly. I will bring more in as you train them.”

“Then it shall be as you command,” decided Tmundo. “I truly hope that Kaltara is guiding you wisely. What is learned by the flatlanders cannot be unlearned.”

“I will go to Omunga,” declared Ukaro as he rose. “You, my son, must accompany me before you leave this day.”

“Where are we going?” asked Marak as he rose.

“Someplace that I should have taken you a long time ago,” smiled Ukaro. “It is time for you to learn what being the Torak truly means to our people. I will take you to the ancient temple of the Chula.”

“Changragar,” nodded Rykoma. “Yes, it is time for the Torak to know everything. He has shown that he is truly the gift from Kaltara that was promised to us. I will send someone to let Fardale know that he will be gone for a few days.”

The small sailboat glided to a stop on the sandy beach. Aakuta’s eyes scanned the beach before he stepped out of the boat. He immediately covered his head with his hood and stood staring at the distant top of a pyramid that was just visible above the trees. He was about to start walking towards the pyramid when a creature emerged from the woods. The creature stood over seven feet tall and appeared to be related to some form of ape. Its body was covered in long hair, and it slouched when it walked, the thumbs on its feet kicking up sand. Its eyes were inset above a protruding snout, and those eyes were concentrating on Aakuta. Aakuta felt the power increasing in his arm as he prepared to defend himself.

“Forbidden!” shouted the ape-like creature.

Aakuta cocked his head slightly as he heard the creature speak. “What are you?” asked the mage.

“Forbidden,” the creature repeated as its huge arm rose threateningly as it pointed towards Aakuta.

The creature advanced steadily towards the dark mage. Aakuta’s eyes narrowed as he scanned the beach one more time. Swiftly, his arm rose and pointed at the creature. Fire leaped from Aakuta’s fingers and ignited the hairy beast. The creature screamed as it realized that it was on fire. Huge hairy arms frantically brushed at the burning torso, but all that was accomplished was to set the hairy arms on fire. The creature let out an ear-splitting howl and raced towards the ocean. It dove into the rolling surf, but it did not move after the fire was out. The body floated as breaking waves sent it bobbing back towards the beach. Aakuta turned and swiftly moved into the stand of trees where he would be less noticeable.

As Aakuta made his way through the trees, he felt someone watching him. He turned often to gaze back towards the beach, but there was no one following him. Suddenly, a woman stepped onto the trail before him. She wore a black skirt that had a golden spider web woven into its design. A red blouse matched the woman’s hat except for the black cone that extended the hat upwards from which flowed a golden scarf to match her cape. The woman had a wide smile upon her lips.

“You are a nasty one, aren’t you?” she asked. “Why did you burn the krul?”

“Krul?” echoed Aakuta in confusion as he halted before the woman.

“The hairy beast on the beach,” the woman explained as her eyes narrowed. “You are not from here, are you?”

“It attacked me,” Aakuta scowled. “It is not my fault if it has a problem with fire.”

“Not your fault?” cackled the woman. “Now that is rich. The krul was merely telling you that you had left your boat in a forbidden area. No boats are allowed on that area of the beach. All visitors to the island must use the city docks. Just who are you?”

Aakuta’s eyes narrowed as he viewed the woman as an obstacle in his way. He felt the power rising in his arm.

“Don’t even think about it,” warned the woman. “I am not a krul, and I will not be dismissed so easily.”

The woman flicked her wrists and a glowing blue aura promptly surrounded her.

“You may be able to get through these shields eventually,” she grinned, “but by then you will be dead. Let’s try this again. Who are you?”

“My name is Aakuta,” answered the visitor as he tried to measure the power of the woman. “What is your name?”

“You may call me Lady Mystic,” answered the woman, “and looks can be deceiving. I know a measuring gaze when I see one. Why do you automatically take me for an opponent? Have I tried to harm you?”

“No,” sighed Aakuta, “but that matters little to me. You are blocking my path.”

“So I am,” smirked Lady Mystic. “Still, I mean you no harm. I am just curious. What are you up to?”

“Do not expect me to fall for such false statements,” scowled Aakuta. “You are trying to delay me until someone comes to your aid.”

“Hardly,” laughed Lady Mystic. “I doubt that I would need assistance from anyone on this island to deal with you. The same cannot be said for yourself, however. You obviously have not been invited to Motanga, or you would not be trying to sneak ashore. Perhaps I can aid you?”

“Why would you?” questioned the dark mage. “You know nothing about me, or why I am here.”

“True,” Lady Mystic smiled as she shrugged, “but you have proven to be interesting already. Things are rather boring on this island. Helping you may provide some entertainment. Come, I will fix you some food. You must be hungry after your ocean voyage.”