Aakuta: the Dark Mage

by Richard S. Tuttle

  “Secrecy is a part of our agreement,” frowned Lord Marak.

  “I know, I know,” nodded Lord Patel. “The only way to ensure secrecy with a mediator involved is to make him vow secrecy as part of the settlement. Bring him in.”

  Lord Marak nodded and Gunta went and returned with Katzu.

  “Katzu,” began Lord Patel, “Lord Marak and I have reached an agreement. We want you to bind that agreement and swear an oath of secrecy regarding the details. Will you do it?”

  “If the agreement is accepted freely by both parties,” nodded Katzu. “It must also be a legal settlement.”

  “It is,” sighed Lord Patel. “Before we explain it, Katzu, I want to apologize to you personally, and to the Lords’ Council via you, although they will never learn of it. My behavior has not been befitting a member of the Lords’ Council. I hope you will forgive me and not think poorly of the Nordon clan because of my errors.”

  “If your apology is sincere,” smiled Katzu, “then I will have little choice but to forgive you. A great Khadora is what we all seek. Sometimes we are blinded as to which path we should take to get there.”

  Lord Patel smiled at the mediator as Lord Marak explained the agreement. Lord Patel and Lord Marshal Orik gave their Vows of Service.

  “Now you must have your troops recalled, Lord Marshal,” stated Lord Marak. “We have avoided bloodshed here, it must not be allowed to occur elsewhere.”

  “I hope we are not too late,” frowned Orik. “My twelve cortes had vowed to press on through the night. I fear what may happen to the two cortes of Torak troops.”

  “Fear also for the Nordon troops,” retorted Lord Marak. “I told you of my other clans. They have eight cortes near Deep Bend right now. They are waiting for the Nordon attack.”

  “Mercy!” swore Orik. “You are a devilish foe. I will get a rider out immediately.”

  “Get his vows first, Lord Marak,” warned Lord Patel. “Nobody should leave this estate without giving his vows first.”

  “A good point,” nodded Lord Marak. “We must also schedule trips to your other estates to make sure that all of the Nordon swear. No word of this agreement must reach the ears of other clans.”

  “None whatsoever,” agreed Lord Patel. “I can suffer my role under you as long as everyone else is ignorant of it.”

  “I think you will grow to like it,” grinned Lord Marak.

  Chapter 21

  Valley of the Ram

  HawkShadow stood unmoving in the dark forest as the legions of Nordon soldiers rode by. His hand eased the bowstring back as he took aim at one of the men at the rear of the column. It was a much greater distance than HawkShadow would use for an assassination, but he did not care if his arrow killed anyone. Wounding a Nordon at this point was as good as killing one. His task was to create havoc and stall the Nordon march to Deep Bend.

  While the arrow was still on its way towards the Nordon column, HawkShadow nocked another arrow and released the bowstring. A scream erupted from the rear of the column as HawkShadow let fly his third arrow.

  Without waiting to see the effects of his attack, the Sakovan assassin turned and ran through the dark mass of trees. His feet moved mechanically over the memorized terrain as his path zigzagged towards the river gorge. Already he could hear the galloping of hooves behind him as the Nordon troops reacted to the attack. HawkShadow panted heavily as he raced away from the mounted column, the sounds of his pursuers coming closer at an alarming rate. HawkShadow wondered if he had cut this one too close.

  As sweat soaked his body, HawkShadow leaped into the air and grabbed onto a low branch of a large tree. He pulled himself up and reached for the next higher branch. The sounds of pursuit pounded loudly in his head as he reached the third branch and grabbed onto the rope he had tied there earlier. He untied the rope and grasped it with both hands as he pushed off with his feet. The air rushed by the Sakovan as he flew over the river. He involuntarily raised his feet, although he was a good several paces above the surface of the water.

  HawkShadow dropped from the rope as he cleared the riverbank on the opposite side of the river from his pursuers. He swiftly grabbed the rope and held it taut as he moved behind a large tree. Just mere seconds later, half a dozen horsemen appeared on the opposite shore. HawkShadow wove an air tunnel and listened to their conversation.

  “Two of you to the left,” ordered the leader, “and two to the right. They have to be around here somewhere.”

  “What about me?” asked the fifth rider.

  “Search between here and the column,” instructed the leader. “They must be on horseback to escape this quickly. See if you can find any tracks.”

  “Do you think this is the same group that attacked our scouts?” the fifth rider asked.

  “It must be,” mused the leader. “Only fools would attack an army of this size. It must be some group that has a grudge against the Nordon.”

  “More like a death wish,” replied the fifth rider as he turned and rode away.

  * * *

  “Will your rider reach them in time?” Lord Marak asked Lord Marshal Orik.

  ‘I am not sure,” admitted Orik. “I ordered them to ride straight through.”

  “They will be tired when they reach Deep Bend,” frowned Lord Marak. “It is not wise to ride into battle with exhausted troops.”

  “I expected only two cortes of Torak troops to be there,” shrugged Orik. “It would not have been much of a battle, and I thought a swift response was rather important.”

  “Well, your swiftness has surprised me,” conceded Lord Marak.

  “Lord Marak,” Latril said as she stepped into the room. “I need to see you immediately.”

  The Torak lord looked at Latril and saw the worry in her eyes. He nodded and excused himself as he left the room.

  “What is the matter?” asked Lord Marak.

  “I contacted Fardale to let them know that you were all right,” Latril said softly. “It seems that HawkShadow contacted them early last night. He reported that the Nordon army did not stop for the night. They are continuing straight through to Deep Bend.”

  “As I just found out,” nodded Lord Marak.

  “Well,” frowned Latril, “Lord Marshal Yenga authorized HawkShadow to delay them if it was possible. I thought you should know.”

  Lord Marak frowned as he pictured the Sakovan assassin attacking twelve cortes of Lord Patel’s best men.

  “Contact Fardale again,” he ordered Latril. “If they hear from HawkShadow, he is to break off any fighting with the Nordon. Try to contact Cortain Talli at Deep Bend. If you get him, keep the air tunnel open and send for me. I will be with Lord Patel.”

  Lord Marak returned to Lord Patel’s chambers.

  “We need to halt your men,” Lord Marak declared to Lord Patel. “Will your lord at Deep Bend be convincing enough to turn them back before they reach the estate?”

  “Lord Grentle can be rather convincing,” nodded Lord Patel, “but will your forces there allow him to leave the estate?”

  “I think they will allow it,” Lord Marak said without elaboration. “Send Lord Grentle a message. He is to ride to the bridge over the Khadora River and await your troops. Send a second message from Lord Marshal Orik instructing the men to return here. Under no circumstances are Nordon troops to enter Deep Bend. If they do, there will be much bloodshed.”

  “I will see to it immediately,” offered Lord Patel. “Do you wish to include a message for your own troops so they know what is going on?”

  “An excellent idea,” nodded Lord Marak.

  The notes were written and Lord Marshal Orik left to make arrangements to have them sent.

  “I never did congratulate you on your election to the Lords’ Council,” Lord Patel said to break the silence.

  “None of the members of the Lords’ Council did,” chuckled Lord Marak. “I did not really expect them to welcome me, but I also did not expect the open hostility from Lord Mirakotto.”

&nb
sp; “There are power struggles even within the Lords’ Council,” Lord Patel explained. “Lord Mirakotto has enjoyed a majority of power on the council. Lord Woton and Lord Garic sided with Lord Mirakotto without exception. That alone gave the Argetta clan three votes on any issue.”

  “What of the rest of you?” inquired the Torak lord.

  “Lord Kiamesh has always opposed Mirakotto,” continued the Nordon lord. “Surely you sensed that during the brief meal and the voting in the Assembly of Lords?”

  “I did,” nodded Lord Marak.

  “Lord Quilo and I were the fence sitters,” shrugged Lord Patel. “Whatever Mirakotto wanted to get through the council required one of us to side with him. Personally, I found that position to be quite lucrative. Lord Mirakotto is not beyond sharing his wealth to ensure that he gets what he wants.”

  “Does he always win?” questioned Lord Marak.

  “Not always,” Lord Patel shook his head. “There are times when both Lord Quilo and I find Mirakotto’s proposals too radical, but those times are rare.”

  “What about now?” asked Lord Marak. “Lord Woton will not be there to ensure victory for Lord Mirakotto.”

  “Which is why he hates you, Lord Marak,” informed Lord Patel. “He would now have to buy the support of both Lord Quilo and me, but I am now aligned with you. Mirakotto will become quite dangerous when he finds that he can no longer win.”

  “There is no reason for our relationship to be known,” stated Lord Marak. “In fact, by keeping your distance from me within the council, you may become privy to certain information that is valuable to me.”

  “That will be impossible for me to do and maintain my Vows of Service, Lord Marak,” the Nordon lord shook his head.

  “Will it?” grinned Lord Marak. “You are sworn to me, but you do not have to like me. I am quite sure that you are capable of joining in their verbal roasting of me.”

  “I could indeed,” chuckled Lord Patel. “In fact, I could be the worst roaster of all, but would you not see that as a breech in our agreement?”

  “You know what Vows of Service are, Lord Patel,” smiled Lord Marak. “As long as you do not work against my wishes, you are free to say what you think of me, at least before the Lords’ Council. I would not accept such behavior from you if it were among the Nordon people. I doubt whether they would accept it either.”

  “You make a good point, Lord Marak,” Lord Patel nodded seriously. “I could have enough of an attitude towards your policies that would make Lord Mirakotto believe that I still oppose you. In fact, I still do oppose your policies, although I am honor bound to implement them.”

  “You attitude will change over time,” smiled Lord Marak. “In the meantime, find out what Lord Mirakotto is up to. I need to grab a bite to eat. Would you like anything while I am downstairs?”

  Lord Patel looked at Lord Marak with surprise, but eventually he smiled and shook his head. “You really would bring me something, wouldn’t you?” he chuckled.

  “Why not?” laughed Lord Marak. “We are all human after all. I will be back shortly.”

  Lord Marak left the room and went into the kitchen. Several Torak soldiers were eating, as were Mistake and Katzu. Lord Marak grabbed a bowl of stew and a hunk of bread and sat down next to Mistake.

  “I could not help overhearing your talk with Lord Patel,” Mistake said softly. “You mentioned the Jiadin at those three estates. Is that true?”

  “It is,” Lord Marak nodded. “There are about five thousand at each estate.”

  “Then what I heard in Khadoratung may interest you,” Mistake responded. “There are more Jiadin on another estate.”

  “Which one?” frowned Lord Marak.

  “The one that I…stayed at for a while,” Mistake answered as she shot a glance at Katzu.

  Lord Marak understood that Mistake was trying to hide the fact that she had been a slave before Lord Marak freed her. He had no need to embarrass her.

  “So the Pikata are hosting Jiadin as well,” he frowned. “How did you find this out?”

  “I ran into Bursar Wicado in the marketplace,” explained Mistake. “He said that Brakas and Zygor showed up one day. The Jiadin started arriving the next day. He said that thousands have arrived already.”

  “Brakas and Zygor,” Lord Marak frowned. “Those two are long past the time of their deaths. Are they still there?”

  “No,” answered Mistake. “Wicado was confused about that, too. He said that Brakas left, but he never remembered seeing Zygor leave. He did say that Marshal Ulmreto also died that day, so I imagine that Zygor left in the commotion that must have followed.”

  “If those two are involved with the Jiadin flooding into Khadora,” declared Lord Marak, “we are in for a tough battle.”

  “Who are they?” asked Katzu.

  “Brakas is a Fakaran who used to follow Grulak,” answered Mistake. “He is a dirty treacherous traitor to Fakara.”

  “Zygor may well be something worse,” scowled Lord Marak. “He has magical abilities. He worked for Grulak to help track down and destroy the free tribes.”

  “Magical abilities?” questioned Katzu. “Are you sure of this? A man who knows magic?”

  “I am sure,” Mistake replied with a heavy frown. “He tried to kill me by shaking the mountain that I was on. He nearly succeeded.”

  “Perhaps it was coincidence?” probed Katzu. “Earthquakes are not unknown in this area.”

  “Every time Zygor raises his arms?” quipped Mistake. “I know a mage when I see one, Katzu.”

  “I have heard tales this last week of another male mage,” frowned Katzu. “I tended to disbelieve those tales, but now you cause me to reevaluate.”

  “Aakuta,” Lord Marak stated. “I heard the tales as well. I wonder if he is associated with Zygor?”

  “Yes,” nodded Katzu, “Aakuta was the name that I heard. I also heard about the destruction of the palace cells. What do you know about that, Lord Marak?”

  “I did not see the person,” answered Lord Marak. “The slit in the door did open before the destruction, but it was too dark to make out facial features. Whoever it was, he had great powers.”

  * * *

  The caravan paralleled the Fortung Mountains as it passed over the desolate Fakaran landscape. The soil was parched and cracked, and great whirls of dust rose from the lead horses. Werner grabbed his water skin and let a small sip of water roll around in his mouth before swallowing it. He pulled his scarf back over his lips and put the water skin down on the seat of the wagon. He cursed the barren land that Aakuta had brought him to and wondered what the dark mage was up to. The wizard was certainly wealthy after taking the gold from Lord Druck. Why would he then load wagons with seed and come to this forsaken land?

  Suddenly, Aakuta halted the lead wagon. Werner pulled back on the reins. The tired horses did not need much coaxing to stop. Werner jumped off the wagon and ran forward to see why they were stopping. He gazed at the wheels of the wagons as he passed to see if any had broken spokes. The wagons were fine, and Werner presumed that one of the lead horses was ailing. When he arrived at the front of the caravan, Aakuta was just climbing down from his seat.

  “What is the matter?” asked Werner. “Why are we stopping?”

  “This is our destination,” Aakuta replied distractedly as he gazed around at the desolate landscape.

  “Our destination?” echoed Werner. “You can’t be serious? This is a desert. Nothing will grow here. It is impossible.”

  “Nothing is impossible,” Aakuta scowled as he turned to stare at Werner.

  Werner recoiled from the dark eyes that peered into him from beneath the black hood. He felt a chill race up his spine, and he immediately turned away. Aakuta spent several more minutes admiring his chosen location. His eyes scanned the parched soil for any signs of human activity and found none.

  “It does not look like anyone comes this way,” Aakuta murmured to himself.

  “Most assuredly not,” Werne
r nodded exaggeratedly. “All of the trails into Fakara follow the rivers out of the mountains. We have been moving away from the river for a full day. Why would anyone come this way?”

  “Unhitch the horses,” Aakuta ordered, “and then remove the livestock and tether them to the wagons.”

  Werner immediately moved to obey the magician’s orders, but he kept glancing back at Aakuta as if the mage were delirious. Aakuta walked away from the caravan, and Werner watched as the old mage marched far off. As Werner tied the wasooki and clova to one of the wagons, he saw the dark mage raise his hands high over his head. Suddenly, a great funnel of wind rose up from the area where Aakuta had stopped. The tornado grew in size and intensity as dirt and rocks flew skyward. Within moments, the dark spinning cloud mushroomed high overhead. Werner could feel soil raining down on his head as the large tornado blotted out the sun. Werner cringed behind one of the wagons.

  The animals grew restless, and the horses started to pull the wagons away. Werner dashed forward to restrain the horses, but the sun shone down on him before he got there. He looked up in awe and saw the great tornado spinning away to the south. He glanced towards Aakuta to see if the magician had been carried away, but the dark mage stood erect watching the storm flee.

  Werner unhitched the nervous horses and tied them to the wagons. By the time he was done, Werner noticed that the sun was gone again. He glanced upward and saw dark clouds overhead once again, but this time there was no funnel. The clouds moved rapidly across the sky from all directions as if they were drawn by a magnet. He followed their movement and saw them gathering together over the dark mage.

  Werner watched with nervous interest as lightning bolts lit up the dark clouds. Booming blasts of thunder rocked the land, and a tremendous rainfall fell upon the parched soil as if some great celestial giant was emptying a huge bucket. Torrents of rain pummeled the dry soil, and Werner pulled his hood over his head. The storm raged for over an hour and stopped just as suddenly as it began. The clouds turned into mere wisps and were swiftly blown away. Werner squinted out of his drenched hood and saw Aakuta walking towards him.