Island of Darkness

by Richard S. Tuttle

  “Recognize it?” asked MistyTrail.

  “No,” answered Mistake as she gazed at the nearby mountains. “The only jungle that I know of is the Qubari Jungle, and it is nowhere near the mountains when it is near the sea. We are not in Fakara.”

  “And Khadora has no jungle,” sighed MistyTrail. “So just where are we?”

  “I don’t know,” Mistake said as she moved away from the window, “but I am going to slip into one of these uniforms. I have had enough wetness next to my body for now.”

  “Sounds like a good idea,” agreed MistyTrail. “There is some rope in the corner. I will string up a line to let our stuff dry out. We should look at your leg. It is bleeding.”

  “We need to see what kind of food is in the kitchen, too,” nodded Mistake. “Everything in our packs will be soaked.”

  “Why do you suppose the house is empty?” asked MistyTrail. “There were dishes on the table downstairs. Who would just up and leave like that?”

  “Probably anyone who knows about storms,” Mistake answered as she listened to the rain pound on the roof. “These people spend a lot of time watching the sea what from I can tell. They must have seen this storm coming.”

  “Do you think we are safe here?” asked MistyTrail.

  “A lot safer than we were in that boat,” replied Mistake. “It hardly matters now. There is no way that we could reach that city before the storm really hits. We should eat and get some rest while we can. We may end up running as this place falls down around us.”

  “The beds downstairs looked comfy,” shrugged MistyTrail.

  “I think we should stay up here,” frowned Mistake. “I am glad that we found this house as shelter, but I will not feel at ease until we get a chance to observe the people that live here. These uniforms disturb me.”

  “Alright,” agreed MistyTrail. “You tend to your wound, and I will see what food is available downstairs. I will take portions that will not be noticeable if the people return.”

  “Smart idea,” smiled Mistake as she sat on a crate and examined her leg.

  * * *

  Temiker made his rounds of the small classrooms in the schoolhouse in Alamar. He examined the projects of each of the groups and discussed magic theory and its application with the students. He was very happy with their progress. Next, he walked into the large common classroom. One of the older students was leading a discussion on the basics of concentration. Temiker stood against the wall and listened.

  A minor commotion near the front door of the school drew his attention. He craned his neck to see what was causing the distraction and saw that a kitten had wandered in off the street. The commotion died as the older student demanded the attention of all of the students. Temiker smiled as he watched the students try to listen to a lecture on concentration while the cat roamed between their desks.

  Although the distraction was ironic, Temiker could see that the lecture was being disrupted. He walked over and picked up the kitten. Perhaps if the students were more advanced, he would have let the cat continue its meandering ways. He thought about intentionally providing such a distraction as the students became more familiar with the subject. It would be a good indicator of their level of concentration.

  Temiker took the kitten out of the schoolhouse. He gently dropped it on the ground and returned to the common classroom. He listened for another fifteen minutes before he felt a rubbing on his leg. He looked down to see the kitten rubbing against him. Temiker knelt and scratched the kitten’s head as he continued to listen.

  Suddenly, the kitten raced down the hallway. Temiker frowned as he slowly stood up, his own concentration on the lecture destroyed. He sighed heavily and followed the cat. The kitten had run by all of the individual classrooms and had entered the dining room. Temiker smiled as he pictured the kitten searching the kitchen for scraps of food.

  As Temiker entered the dining room and headed for the kitchen, he heard a door close behind him. He whirled around and saw a large, gray-hooded man standing next to the closed door. His finger was raised to his mouth in a symbol of silence.

  “Who are you, and how did you get in here?” Temiker asked calmly.

  “I am a friend in need of your help,” the man replied softly. “Can we talk privately?”

  “There is no one here,” Temiker stated. “What is it that you need?”

  “There is no one here now,” retorted the man, “but the midday meal approaches. A dining room is not where I would wish to be seen.”

  “Very well,” nodded Temiker as he walked to another door leading off of the dining room. “This is my private office. Come in and explain what you are doing here.”

  The man nodded gratefully and walked through the door to Temiker’s office. He sat in a chair before the desk while Temiker closed the door and walked around the desk to sit behind it.

  “First you will remove your hood,” demanded Temiker. “I will see the eyes of who I am talking to.”

  The man hesitated only briefly before complying. Temiker swallowed hard as he stared at the man’s face. The man’s snout, for that is what it was, had a split lip and long whiskers. A bushy mane ran from the man’s forehead to a golden drape over his shoulders, and the man’s cat-like eyes sparkled as they bore into his own.

  “I am a Chula,” declared the man. “Please hear me out.”

  Temiker pressed his lips tightly together as he nodded slowly.

  “My name is Ukaro,” stated the man. “I am a shaman of the Zatong tribe in Khadora. I have been asked by Marak to come down here to investigate the mysterious disease affecting your crops.”

  Temiker noted the lack of a title for Emperor Marak. He had heard stories of the Chula, but he had never met one. His eyes clinically studied the features of the cat-man while he digested the shaman’s words.

  “Emperor Marak is known to me,” Temiker declared. “I am pleased that he would send someone to aid in our investigation, but I am surprised that a Chula would come at the behest of a Khadoran.”

  “Marak is our Torak,” Ukaro stated. “Much like Lyra is the Star of Sakova, Kaltara has chosen Marak to lead our people.”

  “I am Omungan,” Temiker replied swiftly. “Why do you mention Sakovans to me?”

  “You are Lyra’s uncle,” purred Ukaro as his lips split in a wide grin. “I know that my sudden appearance here may be unsettling for you, but I spoke with Lyra when she visited Khadora recently. I know of your relation to her, as well as your support for the Sakovan people. I also know that you are Omungan by birth. Frankly, Omungans to me are as much flatlanders as the Khadorans, but in this situation we must work together. I see your relationship to the Sakovans as an unconscious attempt to be aligned with the forces of good.”

  “Just what is it that you want me to do?” asked Temiker.

  “I am not familiar with the land or the people down here,” Ukaro said. “You are. You stare at my face wondering if I am planning to eat you. How far do you think I would get investigating the crops of farmers who do not understand why I am here?”

  “Not very far,” conceded Temiker. “You would be hunted as soon as you were reported.”

  “And hundreds of Omungans would die needlessly,” grinned Ukaro. “That is not a solution to the problem.”

  Temiker tilted his head and gazed at the shaman after his display of self-confidence. He began to wonder about the magics of the Chula.

  “Can you transform into a cat?” asked Temiker.

  “That was me,” confirmed Ukaro. “It is the only way that I could approach you without being seen. I am pleased that you are so considerate of cats. I appreciated the scratch.”

  “I am sure that you did,” chuckled Temiker as he warmed to his visitor. “I am happy that Marak was able to convince you to come here and help. Do you think that you can discover what is affecting the crops?”

  “I can only try,” shrugged Ukaro. “I will say that the Chula know a great deal about plants and growth, as well as the animal kingdom. I am
willing to stay as long as it is necessary to find a cure for the Omungan problem. Will you help me?”

  “Of course,” Temiker nodded. “I am well known in these parts, and I have had my students investigating the mysterious disease. The local farmers would not think anything of me stomping through their fields, even if I did have a hooded friend along. When would you like to start?”

  “Today,” replied the shaman. “I would like to see a field that you consider the worst hit. The greater the devastation to the crops, the better for my study.”

  “Then you are in luck,” frowned Temiker. “Alamar was the first region to be hit by this disease. It all started here and has since spread around the country. This region has all of the worst fields. You can have your pick.”

  “Then let us get started,” Ukaro said as he rose.

  “Before we leave,” interjected Temiker. “Were you serious in your boast about killing Omungans?”

  “It was not a boast,” answered the shaman. “I did not come here seeking to kill flatlanders, but I am very capable of defending myself. I hope to avoid such confrontations.”

  “I will help you avoid trouble,” offered Temiker, “but I am curious about your Chula magic. Perhaps you can teach me some of it?”

  Ukaro’s eyes narrowed as he gazed at the flatlander. Chula magic was a closely guarded secret, but he also knew that Marak had already taken steps to change that tradition.

  “Perhaps,” Ukaro eventually replied.

  Chapter 9

  Declaration of War

  “Come in, StarWind,” Lyra said. “There is worry in your eyes, StarWind. Sit and tell me what is wrong this morning.”

  “It is what I was expecting,” sighed StarWind. “I just did not expect it so soon.”

  “A message from SunChaser?” Lyra asked.

  “Yes,” nodded StarWind. “Imperial Guards have been leaving Okata all week. They have not been marching out of the city in large armies, which is why SunChaser did not pick up on it sooner, but the effect is the same. She invited General Kapla for dinner last night. He confirmed that the troops are filtering out of the city and regrouping.”

  “Was she able to discover the destination of these armies?” inquired the Star of Sakova.

  “We are the destination,” reported StarWind. “The Katana has instructed the army to find StarCity and destroy it. They plan on entering the Sakova over a broad front in great numbers.”

  “So it begins,” Lyra frowned.

  “Yes,” agreed StarWind, “but it gets worse. Our food shipments to the Omungan cities must be stopped immediately. The Omungans plan to follow any Sakovan caravans directly back here.”

  “So we must let the Omungans starve in order to maintain our security?” questioned Lyra. “Surely there must be another way?”

  “I cannot think of one,” replied StarWind. “There were caravans due to go out this morning for Campanil and Tanzaba. I ordered them to wait until you authorized them to proceed.”

  “What of the other caravans?” asked Lyra.

  “The caravans to Fortaka and Gatong should already be on their way back here,” answered StarWind. “The one to Alamar is probably just arriving there.”

  “Are those caravans likely to be followed?” asked Lyra.

  “We can’t know for sure,” admitted StarWind. “All three cities are far from Okata, but the troops have had a week to move about. I would feel safer if we ordered them to abandon the wagons and race back here.”

  Lyra sat silently for some moments staring at the large wall map. The Sakova was a very large area and the Imperial Guards would not find StarCity easily, but their plan to follow the caravans held great risk to the secrecy of the location of the Sakovan stronghold.

  “What has been the general feeling toward Sakovans in the cities?” she asked the Sakovan spymaster.

  “The food shipments have greatly impressed the people of the Omungan cities,” answered StarWind. “In Alamar and Fortaka crowds gather and cheer when the caravans arrive. Campanil and Tanzaba are more subdued, but the appreciation is still great. I cannot imagine what the Omungan people will think when we stop the deliveries, but we must.”

  “Larst has put us in the position of starting the war,” fumed Lyra. “We will be seen as shutting off the food deliveries just when the Omungan people have become dependent upon them.”

  “And when we attack the Imperial Guards entering the Sakova,” added StarWind, “Larst will parade the casualties for all to see. It will be seen as an unprovoked attack by the savages.”

  “Exactly,” nodded Lyra. “How do we thwart his plan?”

  “We developed a defense plan in the meeting you called last week,” declared StarWind. “I thought the issue was settled.”

  “For the defense of StarCity, it is,” replied Lyra, “but that is not what we are facing right now.”

  StarWind nodded absently as she chewed on her lower lip and pondered the question. She rose from her chair and walked to the wall map. Lyra also rose and joined the spymaster.

  “What are you thinking?” Lyra asked.

  “Two thoughts come to mind,” StarWind replied distractedly. “Both are very risky.”

  “Explain your thoughts,” Lyra said. “We will discuss the risks after.”

  “Alright,” StarWind said. “Larst expects great casualties to his troops entering the Sakova. What if he did not get his wish?”

  “Do you mean to just let the Imperial Guards run rampant through the Sakova?” questioned Lyra. “The secrecy of StarCity would never withstand such scrutiny.”

  “That is not exactly what I had in mind,” StarWind replied with a weak smile. “We have made the Sakova seem a nightmare for generations. Suppose we reinforced those thoughts on the Imperial Guards?”

  “Those tales were told to frighten children,” frowned Lyra. “Do not expect soldiers to react the same way.”

  “Those soldiers were children not too long ago,” smiled StarWind. “They still remember those nightmarish tales. While they will not easily show their fear to those around them, I am willing to wager that the fears still exist.”

  “Even if we try to frighten the Imperial Guard out of the Sakova,” Lyra shook her head, “Larst will still have the bodies to show the people. That accomplishes little.”

  “Bodies?” grinned StarWind. “There will be no bodies. I am talking about frightening the soldiers without leaving any bodies. Think in terms of scouts disappearing, food supplies vanishing, strange sounds in the night so soldiers cannot sleep, and small items taken off the sleeping bodies of soldiers.”

  “Can that be done?” Lyra asked as she remembered her own first visit to the Sakova. MistyTrail had terrorized her and her friends.

  “You know that it can be,” smiled StarWind. “HawkShadow is an expert at such things. SkyDancer is also fairly adept, although I wish MistyTrail was still here.”

  “Still,” Lyra shook her head, “two people against the hordes that will be invading us? I am not sure anything will be gained.”

  “Nothing will be lost if they don’t get caught,” retorted StarWind. “We lose nothing from our defense plan by letting them try.”

  “Agreed,” decided the Star of Sakova. “You mentioned two ideas. What is the second?”

  “The Katana wants us to cut off our food deliveries so that the Omungans hate us,” explained StarWind. “Suppose we do the opposite? Suppose we inform the Omungans of what their Katana is trying to do to them?”

  “And then continue to send them food anyway?” Lyra asked with a puzzled frown. “Our people will be killed. I will have sacrificed them to make a point.”

  “I said the plans were risky,” countered StarWind. “I think we could lower the risks by sending caravans to selected cities at selected times. Say that we saw an opportunity to send food to Fortaka while the Imperial Guard was elsewhere. The Omungans would move their troops to make sure that we didn’t do it again.”

  “But we would send our caravans i
n the opposite direction,” nodded Lyra. “This plan has merit, but we will need good intelligence on the movements of the Imperial Guard. What about the individual city garrisons? Won’t they interdict the shipments without the help of the Okata armies?”

  “I am not sure,” admitted StarWind. “While the city garrisons are Imperial Guards, they are mostly men from that city. They have families that are starving inside the walls. I think a lot will depend upon how favorably the people of the city look upon us.”

  “You said that Fortaka and Alamar were the most welcoming of the Omungan cities,” schemed Lyra. “I want to take both of the caravans scheduled to leave today and redirect them to one of those cities.”

  “For what purpose?” questioned the Sakovan spymaster. “Both cities have just received shipments.”

  “Because those are our strongholds in the Omungan population,” replied Lyra. “We will boost food supplies of one of those cities before the Imperial Guard disrupts our deliveries.”

  “I will see to it,” nodded StarWind. “I will actually feel better with caravans going to only one city at a time. It lessens the chance of interdiction. I will send both caravans to Alamar. The approach to that city is safer than Fortaka.”

  “Good,” smiled Lyra. “I will be traveling with the caravans.”

  “What?” gasped StarWind. “You will do no such thing. While our people are willing to risk their lives to feed the Omungans, we are not willing to risk our Star.”

  “Then guard me well,” Lyra said firmly. “I plan to speak to the people of Alamar. Larst has to be seen for what he is, whatever that is.”

  “Oh,” frowned StarWind, “I almost forgot. I spoke to Lord Marak about your question of someone taking over another’s body. He said it recently happened in Khadora. He does not know how it was accomplished, but he is certain that Zygor inhabited the body of a Khadoran lord.”

  “That explains much,” frowned Lyra. “I thought Larst had turned dramatically. Now it makes sense. So once again they have a false Katana. Omunga needs a better method of leadership.”