Island of Darkness (6 page)

“No, I can’t,” scowled Mistake as she leaped to her feet. “I have wasted my life looking for you, and all you can think of is what went wrong. If we do have any more family, I will leave the task of finding them to you. I have done more than my fair share.”

Tears welled up in MistyTrail’s eyes as Mistake fled from the garden. Within minutes she was crying up a storm. She felt a nudge as someone sat on the bench next to her. She wiped her eyes and looked over to see StarWind sitting alongside her.

“What happened?” StarWind asked softly.

“I don’t know,” MistyTrail sobbed. “Mistake wants me to feel about her as she does about me, but I cannot. I still can’t believe that I have a sister. For too many years I have pushed such thoughts out of my mind. I don’t know how to react to her, StarWind. How am I supposed to feel about a sister that I have never known?”

“I am not the right person to ask that question of,” shrugged StarWind as she reached out and put her arm around MistyTrail. “Perhaps it is how I felt about MoonFlow? She was the closest thing to a sister that I have ever experienced.”

“But you loved her,” frowned MistyTrail. “Everyone knows how close you two were. Is that how I am supposed to feel about Mistake?”

“You do not determine how to feel about a person in the same manner as you decide what to wear in the morning,” StarWind replied. “What you feel for any person is dictated by your heart. Don’t you like Mistake?”

“I like her a lot,” sobbed MistyTrail, “but that does not seem to be enough for her. I guess that I do not measure up to what she expected to find. She said some nasty things before she ran out of here. I think she hates me now.”

“She needs time to adjust, too,” soothed StarWind. “Have you ever wanted something so badly that you could not wait to get it?”

MistyTrail sat silently for a few moments before nodding. “I remember wanting to go on patrol by myself,” sniffed MistyTrail. “HawkShadow kept saying that I was not ready and wouldn’t let me go alone. I hated him for it.”

“Do you still hate HawkShadow?” questioned the Sakovan spy.

“Of course not,” MistyTrail answered. “I have no finer friend in all the Sakova.”

“So your emotions were clouded by your desire then?” smiled StarWind.

“Worse than that,” MistyTrail responded with the hint of a chuckle. “I performed miserably when he finally gave in and let me go out. I made just about every mistake I could possibly make. It was not just my emotions that were clouded. My judgment was as well. I don’t know how HawkShadow ever forgave me for that.”

“Then understand that Mistake’s emotions are clouding her judgment right now,” smiled StarWind. “Don’t let her words hurt you forever. Understand that she may have said things that really do not reflect on how she truly feels.”

“I will not hold her words against her,” promised MistyTrail, “but I still do not know how to react to her.”

“Then you should do what I do when I am confused about something,” suggested the Sakovan spy.

“What do you do?” inquired MistyTrail.

“I go to the temple and ask Kaltara for guidance,” smiled StarWind.

MistyTrail’s eyes brightened and a smile crept onto her lips. “That is exactly what I will do,” the small Sakovan smiled.

StarWind leaned against the rail fence of the practice yard in StarCity as she watched StormSong practicing against two opponents. As many times as the Sakovan spymaster had watched her friend spar, she was always amazed by the woman’s strength and endurance. Sweat soaked StormSong’s tunic, but she fought with a smile on her face. The two men fighting the female warrior were being worn down. StarWind could see it in their sluggish actions. They were getting tired and their reflexes had lost their quickness. With a sudden aggressive move, StormSong surged towards the two men, abandoning her defensive posture. Her wooden sword slapped the neck of one opponent while her leg snaked behind the other and toppled him to the ground. StormSong swung her sword away from the decapitated opponent and rested its tip at the throat of the fallen man while her legs straddled his body.

“Well done,” panted the defeated man as he gently pushed the tip of StormSong’s sword to one side. “I have learned much from this spar. I will be a better match the next time.”

StormSong smiled and extended a hand to the man to help him to his feet. “This spar was much better than the last,” she congratulated. “Soon I will be limited to fighting you two separately. Thank you for the spar.”

StormSong approached the fence and StarWind tossed her a towel.

“I always enjoy watching you spar,” grinned StarWind. “I am going to have to start watching you in the dining room. I want to eat what you eat.”

“It is not my diet,” laughed StormSong as she dried herself. “We both excel at what we do because we are doing what we love to do. You do not want to be like me any more than I want to be like you. I admire your intelligence and the way you handle a huge spy network. Nobody else could do the job you do. I just enjoy the art of fighting.”

“There is great truth in your words,” smiled StarWind. “Still, I very much enjoy watching you spar.”

“And I enjoy doing it,” grinned StormSong. “How was your trip to Khadora?”

“It was very interesting,” StarWind replied. “Emperor Marak is a most interesting man. I learned a great deal while I was up there.”

“I heard about him becoming the Emperor,” remarked StormSong. “In some ways I am delighted for him, but another part of me considers it a waste of his time.”

“A waste of his time?” echoed the Sakovan spymaster. “How can you say such a thing? He is the best thing to ever happen to Khadora. They will finally emerge as a true nation.”

“That is probably true,” shrugged StormSong, “but Marak is also the greatest fighter that I have ever known. That man was born to stand on the field of battle and whittle down his foes. I picture him standing victorious on a great battlefield, his enemies’ blood running down his upheld blade and staining the ground around his feet. I do not picture him in a crown, sitting at a desk with a pile of papers before him.”

“Your imagination is vivid,” chuckled StarWind. “I seriously doubt that Emperor Marak will spend much time in the Imperial Palace. He is a man of action as you describe. He will find a way to insert himself into whatever battle comes his way.”

“I will offer prayers to Kaltara for him,” smiled StormSong.

“The temple will become a busy place,” frowned StarWind as her mind drifted.

“What do you mean?” questioned StormSong.

“MistyTrail has been in the temple for two days now,” explained StarWind. “She was having trouble adjusting to having a sister. I suggested that she pray about it. She has not left the temple since. I take her food several times a day, but she barely touches it. I am worried about her.”

“Do you want me to talk to her?” asked StormSong.

StarWind gazed at StormSong and shook her head as she laughed. “I think it would be more appropriate for you to beat some sense into Mistake,” she chuckled. “I am sorry StormSong, but I can’t picture you as a mother hen with MistyTrail.”

“Good,” laughed StormSong. “Beating Mistake does sound like more fun. It would be challenging, too. Both of them move so swiftly. Seriously, if I can help in any way, please let me know.”

“I will,” smiled StarWind. “The funny thing is how much alike they are. While MistyTrail has holed up in the temple, Mistake has refused to leave her room. If I did not know that Mistake has mounds of provisions in her pack, I would become concerned for her health as well.”

“They will work it out,” soothed StormSong. “It must be quite an adjustment for both of them, but they are so much alike. I cannot imagine them in any relationship but one of loving sisters. They just need time to sort things out.”

“I hope you are right,” sighed StarWind. “I will give them another day before I bring the matter to Lyra’s attention.”

* * *

The Sakovan caravan rolled through the gates of Alamar. The Imperial Guards gave a brief glance into the wagons and muttered cheerfully when they saw the contents. They happily waved the wagons through the gate.

SpringThaw led the three Sakovan wagons through the streets of the Omungan city. Beside her on the lead wagon, FalconEye gazed far into the distance as he searched for the intersection they were instructed to turn at. A few minutes later, FalconEye grinned and tapped SpringThaw’s arm three times. The driver nodded her understanding.

“The people seem friendly enough,” remarked SpringThaw. “Some are even waving to us, and I doubt they know what is in the wagons.”

“Our troubles have never been with the people of Omunga,” replied FalconEye. “It is the government that seeks to destroy us. Is this your first trip to an Omungan city?”

“It is,” nodded SpringThaw. “I was supposed to go on one earlier, but that was when the incident with Alazar happened. Lyra cancelled all educational trips to Omunga. I find it exciting. I am surprised that I was chosen to lead this historic trip.”

“You do well enough with the wagons and our men,” complimented FalconEye. “You are also smart enough to be cautious in what you say. Others might develop an attitude about giving our food to the Omungans. That would defeat our purpose.”

“How can we begrudge food to others?” questioned SpringThaw. “We have an excess, and these people are starving. It is what Kaltara would expect of us.”

“You are correct,” smiled FalconEye, “and yet we need to be aware that we are trespassers here. Some Omungans will not look upon us so kindly. It will take the proper attitude to sway their minds. I believe that is why you were chosen to lead this caravan. You will represent the true feelings of the Sakovans as few others could do.”

“Don’t you feel the same way as I do?” questioned SpringThaw. “Do you think we are making a mistake by giving up our food?”

“Not at all,” FalconEye shook his head, “but other thoughts cloud my mind. While I agree with our policy of sharing our food, I also am wary enough to expect trouble in return for our kindness. I believe that is why I was chosen to accompany you.”

“So you are to watch my back in case of trouble?” asked the driver.

“Exactly,” nodded FalconEye. “My mouth will remain closed while we are in the city. Yours will be the voice of Sakova while we are here. Turn here.”

SpringThaw turned to the left and traveled along a lesser street. She looked back to make sure that the other wagons followed and then concentrated on navigating the narrow street. Several blocks along the street, FalconEye signaled for another turn.

“There it is,” pointed FalconEye as a new building came into view. “That will be Temiker’s new school. We will stop there to find out where we are supposed to deliver this food.”

SpringThaw angled her wagon towards the left side of the street. She smoothly brought it to a halt in front of the magic school. The mage, Temiker, was already standing outside the building. He waved cheerily at the caravan.

“You made good time,” greeted Lyra’s uncle. “Take a short break and have some food. Then I will take you to the Imperial Guard.”

“What about the food?” questioned FalconEye. “Someone might steal some of it while we are inside.”

“And what if they do?” smiled Temiker. “These people are starving. If some should get a few handfuls before the others, it will not matter in the long run. Go inside and refresh yourselves.”

The six Sakovans jumped off the wagons and hurried inside the school. When Temiker turned to join them, he saw a brown streak separate from the last wagon and dash into the alley alongside the school. His brow creased with curiosity. Quietly he stole along the street to the corner of the schoolhouse.

After the fire that had burned the last schoolhouse, Temiker had purchased a larger portion of land to build his new school. Park-like lots adjoined the school on each side. As Temiker peered around the corner of the schoolhouse, he saw a small figure darting from tree to tree as it made its way towards the rear of the building. He smiled inwardly as he cast a spell towards the swift-moving person. He was rewarded with a cry of surprise.

Temiker turned the corner and hurried towards the captured figure. He chuckled to himself as he saw MistyTrail frozen from the neck down. He was just about to release her from the spell when a pall of confusion fell across his face. The captured person was not MistyTrail.

“Who are you?” he asked as he stepped in front of the diminutive woman.

“Let me go, wizard,” snapped the woman. “Let me go, or you will rue this day forever.”

“You are in a poor position to make demands,” chuckled Temiker. “When someone sneaks into Alamar onboard a Sakovan wagon, I think it is my business to find out who you are and what you are up to. I will have answers before your are freed.”

“I think not,” the woman said adamantly. “Who I am, and where I go is none of your business, magician. Release me at once, or I will scream loudly.”

“You will scream, will you?” laughed the old mage. “You obviously don’t know an awful lot about Omunga. The Imperial Guards would answer your cry in a heartbeat, but they will not be so gentle with their questioning.”

The woman pouted and refused to speak. Temiker’s eyes narrowed as he studied the face of the young woman.

“Are you related to MistyTrail?” he asked. “You look so much like her that I mistook you for her when I first saw you.”

“You know MistyTrail?” gasped the young woman. “How is it that an Omungan knows a Sakovan?”

“I know many people,” smiled Temiker. “MistyTrail is a dear friend of mine.”

“I don’t believe you,” spat the young woman.

“That hardly matters,” frowned Temiker. “If you will not speak to me, I shall have to contact Lyra and find out what is to be done with you.”

“You know the Star of Sakova?” frowned the woman. “Who are you?”

“I am Temiker,” declared the mage. “Lyra is my niece. She will instruct me as to what to do with you.”

“Wait!” called the woman as Temiker turned to leave. “My name is Mistake. I will tell you what you want to know. Just do not tell the Sakovans where I am? You must promise.”