“You are to completely abandon the tasks that were assigned to you,” declared MistyTrail. “Lyra gave you those tasks to misinform a spy.”
“A spy?” echoed HawkShadow. “What spy?”
“And what about FalconEye?” asked SkyDancer. “He is already on his way to destroy Zaramilden.”
“FalconEye is long dead,” Temiker interjected. “His body was possessed by a Motangan mage.”
“How can you be sure?” asked StormSong. “He acted normal to me.”
“I overheard him the night of the party in StarCity giving away all of the information presented by Lyra at the meeting,” explained Temiker.
“Who was he giving the information to?” asked SkyDancer.
“That I do not know,” shrugged Temiker, “but I can well imagine who was at the other end of the air tunnel.”
“Air tunnel?” questioned HawkShadow. “FalconEye is not even a mage. He could not create an air tunnel.”
“Exactly,” nodded Temiker, “yet he did.”
“Why have we let him go then?” asked StormSong. “He should be killed.”
“He was let go for a reason,” answered MistyTrail. “If he were to die, the Motangans would suspect that the information he sent might be false. I suspect that even as he sails to Zaramilden, he is updating his report with the knowledge about the tasks assigned to the three of you.”
“So,” nodded HawkShadow, “if you are concerned about the Motangans not believing FalconEye’s report, then everything Lyra said the other night was a lie. Is that right?”
“That is correct,” smiled Temiker. “It was all a lie to be reported by FalconEye. Alamar is to be defended strongly. Even before you got here, General Manitow’s men began building catapults to fire at the ships. The armies that have been roving the Sakova in random patterns are now gathering towards this city.”
“And all of that about defending Khadora?” asked SkyDancer. “Am I not going to Khadoratung?”
“You are needed right here,” grinned MistyTrail. “No armies are being sent to Khadora. While the Motangans will be expecting a lightly garrisoned city, they will face the bulk of the Sakovan armies. The silhouettes that they see on the rooftops will not be the wooden ones made by HawkShadow. They will be Sakovan archers.”
“This is more like it,” grinned HawkShadow. “Do the others know about this ruse?”
“They were informed shortly after we left StarCity,” nodded Temiker. “You cannot imagine how hard it was on Lyra to see all of your faces that night. She knew what each of you was thinking. She knew that some of the Sakovans would even hate her for her statements, but she also knew that many lives depended on her deceit.”
“Well, she was certainly good at it,” StormSong said softly. “I am ashamed for ever doubting her.”
“And she is sorry for having to put her people through such a thing,” responded MistyTrail. “That is the reason for my return from Elvangar. We knew that a mage had taken over a body close to Lyra, but we didn’t know who it was. It could have been any of you.”
“Which explains her distance over the past few days,” offered SkyDancer. “I can’t imagine what she went through.”
“What will happen to FalconEye?” asked HawkShadow.
“He will be under General Papper’s command once he reaches Zaramilden,” answered Temiker. “We may use him to report more disinformation for a while, but he will be killed as soon as Alamar is attacked. Vand will discover at that time that the information was false.”
“What do we do now?” asked StormSong.
“There is much to be done,” answered MistyTrail. “General Manitow has the plans for defense of the city. Traps must be laid both on the beaches outside the city and along the streets within the city.”
“So we still expect Alamar to fall?” asked SkyDancer.
“I do not think there was ever a chance that it would not fall to the enemy,” nodded Temiker, “but we are determined to make it painful for Vand’s armies. I have tasks for each of you.”
* * *
The Chula shaman sat in a shadow on the peak of a mountain on the Island of Darkness. He gazed down at the island as his eyes roved over the four major cities one last time before the sun set. Satisfied that there were no threatening movements of troops occurring, Calitora cast a spell that transformed him into a black jaguar. As he did every day at sundown, the jaguar moved out of the shadow and descended from the mountain peak. The large cat angled more to the south than he had on previous occasions. It was time to investigate the southernmost reaches of the island.
The sun set, and darkness claimed the sky long before the jaguar reached the base of the mountain. Calitora eased into the forest, his nose and ears constantly alert as he loped along the forest trails. There were few people in the central forests of Motanga, but krul camps were abundant. The huge ape-like creatures usually avoided large cats, but the shaman was not willing to risk his life to chance. The jaguar took the extra time necessary to avoid the known krul campsites. Within a few hours, Calitora had entered uncharted territory. He slowed his pace as his mind brought up images from his mountain-peak viewpoint. From the vantage point he maintained during the day, the shaman had mentally chosen places that he wanted to investigate at night. Now he had arrived at the first of those places.
The trail widened considerable as the jaguar approached his first destination. Moments later the sounds of men drifted on the air. The jaguar moved off the trail and crept towards the large wooden stockade. As the barricade came into view, the jaguar turned to parallel it, his eyes scanning the ramparts and counting the number of sentries. Stealthily, the cat circumnavigated the compound until he reached the front gates. There he stood unmoving, peering into the stockade at the numerous soldiers within. Calitora tried to estimate the strength of the army within the wooden walls.
An hour later, the jaguar was on his way once again. The second stop was an open pit mine. A large section of the ground had been torn away through the efforts of a large number of slaves. Calitora halted at the edge of the forest and gazed into the massive pit. Near the bottom of the excavation were hundreds of chained people, some elven, some human. Only a handful of red-clad soldiers walked among the sleeping slaves. Calitora’s eyes followed the slope leading out of the pit and saw wooden structures at the top. The buildings appeared to be barracks for the overseers, and Calitora tried to estimate the number of troops before moving on.
The third stop of the night was along the eastern coast of the island. The jaguar moved quietly through a patch of jungle until the sound of the surf intruded on the sounds of the jungle. Following the coast southward, Calitora came to an open stretch of sand. Sitting in the middle of the open stretch was a three-story building. It was a lookout post similar to the ones he had seen on the western coast of the island. Calitora had to know if the post was manned, so he crept out of the jungle and crossed the open area to the side of the building. His nose sniffed the air as he listened intently to the voices coming from within the structure. He could detect three distinct voices, not the four he had expected to hear, but he would assume four sentries in his recordings as all of the other lookouts had held four.
Calitora moved away from the building and reentered the jungle as he continued southward. An hour later he halted outside the city of Eldamar. Clawing his way up a large tree, the jaguar perched on a branch and settled down to view the city. The almost-full moon illuminated Eldamar well, and Calitora was able to get a feel for the Motangan city, but that was not sufficient for the Chula shaman. He scampered out of the tree and transformed once again. Within seconds the jaguar was gone, and a kitten stood in its place.
The kitten darted towards the city and dashed between two widely separated sentries. For the next three hours, the kitten traveled the streets and alleys of Eldamar, ending up near the wharf. Calitora gazed out at the harbor and counted the ships. He knew from his vantage point on the mountain that more ships were anchored offshore, but he coul
d use the number of those in the harbor to estimate the remaining fleet.
The kitten next moved towards the center of the city. When he reached the building that housed the premer, the kitten leaped onto the wall and dropped into the courtyard. He quickly darted into the bushes as two soldiers rounded the corner of the building. The men walked by, talking to one another. The kitten waited a few minutes before continuing onward. The kitten moved alongside the building until he reached the rear corner. Seeing no one in the rear of the property, the kitten jumped up on the rear porch and moved beneath the window.
Voices came out of the window, and Calitora dallied as he listened for anything that might be interesting, but the talk centered on women and stories of other soldiers. With the night steadily wasting away, the kitten moved onward towards the outskirts of the city. Once he reached the forest outside the city, Calitora transformed back into a jaguar for the trip back to the mountains.
Taking a different route back, Calitora was surprised to stumble upon a large army of soldiers marching through the night. The jaguar crouched under a bush as the Motangan soldiers marched by. He remained motionless for over an hour as the men streamed by. He listened to their conversations and learned that they were heading for Teramar, a city on the southwestern coast of the Island of Darkness. He also learned that they were part of the invasion force, and that their march was in preparation for leaving the island. What he did not learn was when they were leaving the island, and where they were going to invade.
When the long column of soldiers had finally passed by, Calitora raced along the trail. The delay caused by the column might cause him to still be on the slopes of the mountain when the sun rose, and that was one thing that he could not afford. The jaguar ran swiftly in a race against time, a race that almost cost the Chula shaman his life.
An hour after seeing the column of troops heading to Teramar, the jaguar stumbled into six soldiers in the forest. The forest that Calitora was traveling through was uninhabited, and he had not expected to find anyone there in the middle of the night, but the soldiers were there, and they saw the jaguar. They already had bows in hand and arrows nocked, and Calitora figured that they were a hunting party, the worst possible group to run into. Arrows flew towards the jaguar as the soldiers stopped, blocking the trail. There was no time for Calitora to alter his course. With a sudden burst of speed, the jaguar launched his body at the closest soldier. Claws raked at human flesh as the jaguar pounced on the man’s shoulders and bounded over him.
The wounded soldier screamed in pain as the others tried to turn around and get a shot off at the large black cat. Several arrows landed close to the jaguar, but luckily none scored a hit. The men chased after Calitora, but the jaguar ran with every ounce of strength that he could muster. A few minutes later their voices faded into the distance. Calitora altered his course in case the men tried to track him. A half hour later he stopped and transformed into a shaman. Remaining in human form for another half hour, Calitora changed his direction again to foil any attempts at tracking. When he reached the rocky slope of the mountains, he transformed back into a jaguar and raced towards the peaks.
By the time Calitora had regained the summit and transformed back into a human, the first lightening of dawn had already arrived. He opened his pack and proceeded to make notes of his findings from the previous night. When the sun peeked over the horizon, Calitora was already fast asleep in the shadows of the peaks.
* * *
“Why are we changing course?” asked Fisher.
“Meliban is just over the horizon,” answered Captain Mynor. “Unless you want us to be seen by the residents of that fine city, we need to head west a bit.”
“Residents?” chuckled Fisher. “The Jiadin infest Meliban now. The rest of the Fakarans have fled towards Angragar. Can we afford the time required to go west before landing?”
“Aye,” nodded the captain. “Those huge behemoths that Vand uses are not very fast across the water. We are hours ahead of Clarvoy. Besides, they will wait until dark to put Clarvoy ashore. They would not want reports of their large ships off the coast to made. You will be ashore and into the city before Clarvoy touches sand beneath his boots.”
“I can ask for no more than that,” Fisher nodded appreciatively as he pulled a red scarf out of his pack and tied it around his neck.
“So you plan to be one of the Jiadin?” questioned the captain as he gazed at the black-clad spy. “Think you can make it believable?”
“I sure hope so,” shrugged Fisher. “I don’t think the Jiadin would look kindly on me if they didn’t believe my disguise.”
Captain Mynor turned the wheel slightly, causing the ship to angle in towards the shore that was not yet visible. Fisher closed his pack and found a dry spot on the deck to stretch out for a nap.
Several hours later, Fisher was awakened by one of the crew. He rose and stretched as he looked at the beach. Not a person was in sight.
“This is as close as we can get you,” offered the captain as he pointed to a spit of land stretching into the sea. “You will have about an hour’s walk once you round that point.”
Fisher nodded and headed towards the bow, which was resting on the beach. He jumped down to the sand and began walking towards Meliban. When he reached the spit of land, he turned around to look. The Sprite was already back at sea, its black sails hardly visible in the waning sunlight.
Fisher spent the next hour walking along the beach and reviewing everything about Meliban and the Jiadin that he knew. He was not overly concerned about being accepted as a Jiadin warrior. The Jiadin were horsemen, and he would draw a lot of attention if he tried to walk through the gates of the city without a horse, but coming along the beach should work well. It would not appear as if he was just arriving in the city, but rather that he was returning from a stroll along the beach.
Dozens of Jiadin were lounging on the beach and sitting on the docks when the city came into view. Several wrestling matches were drawing large crowds, and no one seemed to pay any particular attention to Fisher leaving the beach and heading for the center of the city. Seeing all the red scarves around the city was quite different from the last time Fisher had been to Meliban. On the prior trip the city was still being built and everyone ran around doing something. The Jiadin, however, appeared bored, as if they were out of their element, and Fisher realized that they were. The Jiadin would much rather be riding across the plains attacking something or someone. They were warriors, not city dwellers.
While Fisher walked the streets of Meliban, he tried to figure out the reason for Clarvoy’s visit to the city. That was one thing that Xavo had not been able to ascertain. His mind paused on the reason for Clarvoy’s visit to Alamar, and a chill ran up his back. Fisher wondered what a spy in Meliban would be able to learn for Vand. He immediately decided to talk to the only person in Meliban that he knew anything about, the innkeeper of the Kheri Inn.
Fisher made his way to the Kheri Inn and entered the common room. The room was fairly full and noisy. The spy immediately entered the kitchen and was confronted with a large woman wielding a knife.
“Out!” scowled the woman. “Only workers are allowed back here. Out with you.”
Fisher halted and stared at the woman. She held the knife as if she knew how to use it and was not afraid of spearing a Jiadin or two. He smiled and nodded at her.
“I am looking for Tutman,” Fisher said softly.
The woman’s brow creased in confusion for a moment and then begrudgingly nodded over her shoulder. She turned to the worktable and began hacking the necks off chickens. Fisher moved quickly past the woman before she changed her mind. Off the kitchen was a small office, and the door was open. Fisher saw a man sitting uncomfortably behind a desk, his left leg extended alongside the desk with two boards tied to it. Fisher walked into the office and closed the door. Tutman looked up at the sound of the door closing, concern clearly etched on his face.
“Are you hurt?” asked Fisher.
>
“What do you think?” snapped Tutman. “Whoever you are, and whatever you want, get out of here. I have had enough for one day.”
“All I want,” Fisher said softly as he continued across the room, “is to talk. I work for Emperor Marak.”
The man’s demeanor changed instantly, although he still looked at Fisher with suspicion.
“What does a Khadoran emperor want with me?” asked Tutman.
“Vand has an interest in Meliban,” declared Fisher. “I am trying to find out what it is.”
“I have no idea,” groused the innkeeper. “Nobody tells me anything.”
“May I look at your leg?” asked Fisher. “It does not appear to be tied well.”
The innkeeper nodded and Fisher knelt next to the desk. He untied the boards and felt the man’s leg. Tutman groaned loudly, but he endured the pain.
“It is broken,” commented Fisher.
“I knew that,” snapped Tutman. “Are you through playing with it?”
“No,” Fisher said as he took the leg in both hands and twisted it.
Tutman howled in pain and the door flew open. The large woman stood in the doorway with her knife and several other women stood behind her.
“It was crooked,” Fisher explained. “If it had been left as it was, you would never have walked again. I set it proper. Now I will tie the boards back. Does it feel better?”
“It does,” Tutman gasped as he nodded. “You are pretty brutal for a healer, son.”
Tutman waved the women back to work, and they closed the door. Fisher tied the boards around the innkeeper’s legs to keep the bone from shifting again.
“Actually,” Fisher said softly, “I am not a healer. I am a spy.”
“A spy?” echoed the innkeeper. “What do you want with me?”
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