Young Lord of Khadora (35 page)

Lord Sevrin turned and reviewed his mighty Army. He stood silent for a long time as he balanced the thought of being subject to Lord Marak’s control versus the death of his men. In the end, he realized that Lord Marak would rule the Ragatha Clan in either event.

“I accept, Lord Marak,” Lord Sevrin finally replied.

Fardale was overcrowded with the Ragatha soldiers. Lord Marak had dispatched one thousand of the red and yellow soldiers to Woodville, but the other fifteen hundred had to erect tents and the Fardale estate resembled the overflow area during the festival days. After the initial confusion, a circus-like atmosphere developed and the Ragatha soldiers mixed freely with the people of Fardale. Some of the Ragatha soldiers wielded musical instruments and the children of Fardale hung around the encampment and ran errands for the visiting soldiers. The ultimate prize for performing an especially hard chore was a pair of the red and yellow feathers which symbolized the Ragatha Clan.

Yenga, who had finally accepted the title of Lord Marshal of the Torak Clan, hosted the other Marshals. Marshal Tingo was told that he would remain the Marshal of Woodville and would be reporting directly to Lord Marshal Yenga. Lord Marshal Orteka probed Yenga about the use of magic as a battlefield weapon and continually asked questions about the trenches and wind currents which were employed against him. Lord Marshal Yenga freely discussed Lord Marak’s fighting techniques and set up demonstrations for the visiting Ragatha soldiers.

Lord Marak spent a great deal of time with Lord Sevrin. The Lord of the Ragatha Clan adapted quickly to his new status after Lord Marak discussed the reforms he wanted to make. Lord Sevrin actually became enthusiastic about the reforms when he observed the former slaves of Fardale working and participating in all manner of Clan life. Like most Khadoran Lords, Lord Sevrin had been taught the necessity of slavery, but unlike most of the other Lords, he did not enjoy enslaving people.

The evening after the battle, Lord Marak lay awake in his bed staring at the ceiling. He should have been very content with his stunning victory, but the problems still facing him rolled through his mind. Foremost on his mind was Cortain Rybak. He must devise a plan to get Rybak free of Lituk Valley, but short of a full-scale confrontation, no plan emerged. He also needed to make a trip to the Ragatha estates to receive his Vows of Service and find a new Lord for Woodville.

There was also Lord Ridak’s reaction to worry about. Lord Marak learned of Lord Marshal Grefon’s assurances that the Situ would stay out of the battle. Lord Marak no longer had any qualms about raising his Torak banner over Fardale and Woodville, but Lord Ridak would not accept the loss of Fardale easily. There were times in history when a Clan Lord did not fight to keep one of his estates, but Lord Marak had never heard of one where the Lord Marshal guaranteed in advance that the Clan would not respond. It was now clear to everyone involved that Lord Ridak was through with Lord Marak.

Lord Marak jumped at the sound of a creaking board and sprang out of bed, grabbing his sword from the stand next to the bed as he rolled across the floor. Lord Marak saw a tall man in the doorway holding a wicked, sinuous sword in his hand and prepared to attack.

“Perhaps my manners could be better,” whispered the voice from the doorway, “but your house appears to be full of people I would rather not meet.”

Lord Marak eased his posture and lowered his sword as he recognized the voice. “If this was a test of my reflexes,” sighed Lord Marak, “rest assured you have eased a few years off my life.”

“My apologies,” chuckled Tmundo. “I wanted to congratulate you on your victories today. You do not find time to visit anymore.”

“I would like to,” answered Lord Marak, “but life is so busy these days. Sometimes I yearn for the simple days of a soldier, but when I do, I think of my mother as a slave again.”

“An effective remedy for such thoughts . . . ,” smiled Tmundo as Lord Marak lit a candle. “I have brought something which belongs to you.”

Lord Marak turned and saw Tmundo holding out the sinuous sword to him. “This is the Sword of Torak,” declared Tmundo. “Is it a sword worthy of a warrior . . . and you are a warrior worthy of it. Use it as the symbol of the Torak Clan. Make it synonymous with freedom and honor.”

Lord Marak hefted the wicked-looking sword and admired the craftsmanship. “You honor me with your gift, Leader of the Kywara,” accepted Lord Marak. “Why do I get the feeling that there is more to the meaning of Torak than you are telling me?”

“When you visit next,” offered Tmundo, “I will explain the significance of Torak to you. Until then, trust in your instincts. You will know what to do and when to do it.”

“I wish I had the confidence in me that others seem to have,” sighed Lord Marak. “All I can see are the problems which I have not solved. One of my Cortains lies in Lituk Valley while I celebrate my victories.”

“Why do you tell me of this?” quizzed Tmundo. “You have the skills to retrieve him. Why do you hesitate?”

“I’m not sure,” admitted Lord Marak. “It feels like I would be attacking my own home and I do not have provocation for an attack.”

“You are still playing by the flatlanders' rules,” sighed Tmundo. “Is it not provocation enough when they enslave other people? Do they have a right to seize your courier and torture him? Do they not wish you dead? Stop playing by their rules, young Marak. They are wrong and you are right. Go, get what is yours and teach them not to take your things again. Unless you are strong and firm, the flatlanders will keeping taking what is yours. This is the way the Kywara live and it is the reason we have survived.”

“If I ignore the flatlander rules,” protested Lord Marak, “they will unite against me.”

“They will do so anyway,” explained Tmundo. “They will not accept your reforms without being forced to. Limit your enemies by playing their game for a while, but discard the rules with selected opponents. Make no mistake about my advice, young Marak. Lord Ridak is your opponent. One of you will live and the other will die. Which role do you wish to fulfill?”

“Why do the Kywara accept me?” asked Lord Marak. “You do not deal with flatlanders and yet you bring me gifts and advice. Why do you see me as being different from the others?”

Tmundo stared at the floor as if in a trance for a few moments before answering. “You are Torak,” stated Tmundo. “Until you understand that, there is little I can explain. You will bring honor to the flatlanders and the Chula need that honor to survive. No Chula will stand against you as long as you remain faithful to the honor of Torak. There is nothing more I can explain at the moment.”

Lord Marak heard a sound outside in the hall and stuck his head out to investigate. When he turned back to his room, Tmundo was gone. He picked up the Sword of Torak and placed it on his stand before crawling into bed.

The next day Lord Marak hosted a reception and asked the Marshals and Lords of the Sorgan Clan and the Litari Clan to attend. At the reception Lord Marak unveiled the new uniform of the Torak Clan, a completely black outfit with a silver headband, waistband and wrist bands. The waistband sported a silver circle with the Sword of Torak embroidered within it.

“The silver is a nice touch,” chuckled Lord Marshal Orteka. “The first time I saw you I would have appreciated something to break up all that black. I wasn’t sure if you were human or if the fog had disturbed my vision.”

Lord Quavry of Watula Valley mumbled something under his breath and Lord Marak noted that the overweight Sorgan Lord did not fit in well with the rest of the people assembled. Lord Burdine had gotten over his early queasiness about serving under Lord Marak and Lord Sevrin actually seemed eager to get the reforms underway. Lord Quavry, alone, still balked at changing his ways. Lord Marak noted to keep a close eye on his Sorgan Lord. Perhaps he would have time to speak with Marshal Patoga before the Sorgans left the reception. Marshal Patoga wholeheartedly accepted Lord Marak’s reforms and Lord Marshal Yenga commented on the blossoming character of his old Lectain Patoga.

Lord Burdine and Lord Sevrin actually got along well. Their Clans had been bitter enemies ever since Woodville was founded. Lord Marak wondered how things would have worked out if the two of them had sat down and talked when the hostilities first erupted. He suspected that Lord Zawbry decided to use his sword instead of his mouth and had managed to sabotage any chance of a peaceful agreement. That was one Ragatha clansman whom Lord Marak would not miss.

Seneschal Pito entered the reception flourishing a long, black cape with a silver border and sporting a large, silver circle with the Sword of Torak in it on the back. To a round of applause and murmurs of appreciation, Seneschal Pito attached the cape to Lord Marak’s uniform. Two bearers behind the Seneschal carried a new black sheath and the Sword of Torak. Lord Marak hefted the Sword of Torak and held it high as the room buzzed with exclamations of appreciation and awe.

“This is the Sword of Torak,” Lord Marak proclaimed. “It is the symbol of the Torak Clan. With it I will restore honor and freedom to Khadora.”

The room was silent and Lord Marak flushed trying to figure out where his words had come from. He did not intend to make a speech about the Sword of Torak. He merely planned to show it to explain the new Clan symbol, but the words just flowed out of his mouth.

Suddenly, Lord Marshal Yenga drew his sword and raised it high. “To Lord Marak, Lord of the Torak Clan!” he exclaimed. “To the Sword of Torak and freedom and honor!”

They broke into a spontaneous salute to Lord Marak as everyone who had a sword raised it in a salute. Those who did not have a sword raised their hands while uttering the words. Only Lord Quavry appeared indifferent to the salute.

Lord Marak left the reception early and corralled Lord Marshal Yenga outside the mansion. “I am going to Lituk Valley tonight,” Lord Marak declared. “Cortain Rybak has been held long enough.”

Rather than the argument Lord Marak expected, Lord Marshal Yenga simply nodded. “Take Gunta and Halman with you,” he insisted. “I have placed scouts in the hills. Take their horses when you get there. You can retrieve yours on the way back.”

“You’ve kept up the bandits?” chuckled Lord Marak.

“Do you know of a better way to catch Situ spies?” laughed Lord Marshal Yenga. “I will keep everyone here entertained. If you are not back in two days, I will lead all of the armies who owe allegiance to you into Lituk Valley.”

“Two days is a rather narrow corridor,” protested Lord Marak.

“I think it is too long for you to be missing,” insisted Lord Marshal Yenga. “I know better than to try to stop you, but I will not be remiss by waiting too long. If you are a little bit late in getting back, you will not have trouble finding four thousand men heading toward Lituk Valley. You can alter my orders then.”

“Two days,” promised Lord Marak, “but the horses will be worthless after the trip.”

“Horses we can spare,” remarked Lord Marshal Yenga, “the Lord of the Torak Clan, we can not. Ride safely and return swiftly.” He snapped his fingers and Gunta and Halman emerged from the shadows. They were already outfitted in the new uniforms of the Torak Clan and were ready to ride.”

“How did you know?” demanded Lord Marak.

“It is my duty to anticipate the moves of others before they occur,” smiled Lord Marshal Yenga. “I had hoped you would allow me to send Gunta and Halman alone, but I was prepared for your decision to go with them.”

Lord Marak smiled and nodded his appreciation as the three black clad warriors headed for the stables. Three horses stood ready and the warriors mounted and galloped to the East. They rode long into the night before Gunta called a halt.

“We are in the area of the bandits,” Gunta explained. “We do not want to be skewered by our own men.”

Gunta dismounted and led his weary horse forward. Lord Marak and Halman dismounted and followed Gunta’s lead. Five minutes into their walk, an arrow streaked downward and stuck in the ground in front of Gunta.

“You are surrounded,” shouted an unseen voice. “Identify yourselves or prepare to die.”

“I am Gunta Torak,” shouted Gunta. “I accompany Lord Marak. We have need of three fresh horses.”

Lord Marak waited tensely as nobody answered. Looking from Gunta to Halman, he filled both hands with Omunga Stars and prepared to move into the darkness. Gunta shook his head and Lord Marak halted. Suddenly, Lord Marak heard the sounds of horses approaching and whirled to see one of his men leading three horses along the path they had just traversed.

“Sorry, Lord Marak,” the bandit apologized. “Lord Marshal Yenga said some riders would be coming tonight, but we didn’t recognize the new uniforms.”

“I am glad you were cautious enough to check before you punctured us with arrows,” responded Lord Marak. “We should be coming back tomorrow or the next day. Is there some signal we can use to avoid a mistake?”

“Have you ever heard a marsh owl?” asked the bandit.

Lord Marak nodded and imitated the call. “Excellent,” remarked the bandit. “Give that call on your way back. Start it about a half hour east of here. We do not stay in the same place for obvious reasons. We will hear it and have your refreshed mounts ready.”

“We will need four mounts upon our return,” instructed Lord Marak optimistically.

The bandit nodded as the three warriors transferred their gear to the new mounts and resumed their journey eastward. Gunta kept up a hectic pace, but the sky began to pale before they reached Lituk Valley. Lord Marak called a halt and dismounted.

“We will not have enough time to accomplish our goal tonight,” declared Lord Marak. “Let’s rest the animals and decide on a plan of attack.”

“If we could leave the horses here,” speculated Halman, “we would have fresher mounts tomorrow night when we are being chased. Do you think we could steal horses out of their stable? We could abandon them here and take these mounts back.”

“That is not a bad idea,” commented Lord Marak, “but it increases our exposure. Getting Rybak out will be tricky enough without trying to steal horses.”