Aakuta: the Dark Mage fl-4

by Richard S. Tuttle

  The two cortains nodded their understanding, and Botal signaled his squad to break ranks from the column. The squad members instructed HawkShadow, StarWind, and Mistake to move forward. Lord Marak nodded, and Botal led the small group forward into the dark as the two cortes rested.

  The guards at River’s Bend were alert and efficient. By the time the small group reached the gates of the estate, the Marshal of River’s Bend was there to meet them.

  “Greetings, Lord Marak,” saluted the marshal. “We were not expecting such a visit.”

  “This is no visit, Marshal Flutay,” smiled Lord Marak. “I would prefer that my presence here is not talked about. Bursar Kasa arranged for a barge to be available to me this evening. Is it ready?”

  “We do have a barge that was scheduled to leave today for Khadoratung,” nodded the marshal. “It is fairly empty. I wondered why an empty barge would make the journey downstream. It did not leave as scheduled, so I assume it is waiting for you. Follow me, and I shall take a route that has few eyes.”

  “There will be two cortes of Torak troops arriving in a short while,” Lord Marak said to the marshal as they rode towards the riverfront. “I want them outfitted with Situ uniforms for their journey to Khadoratung. Can you arrange that?”

  “Without a problem,” the Marshal Flutay nodded. “We have a great deal of Situ uniforms left over. I have refused the seneschal’s plea to reuse the cloth. I thought they might come in handy.”

  “You thought well,” grinned Lord Marak. “You have adapted well into the Torak clan, Flutay. Do you have any regrets?”

  “None, Lord Marak,” the marshal smiled. “River’s Bend has never been more prosperous. My troops are well provisioned and well trained. Their morale is high, as is the morale of the whole estate. It is hard to believe that we used to be Situ.”

  “Excellent,” beamed Lord Marak as they arrived at the wharf. “Keep them on the edge, Marshal. Your troops will not be idle for long.”

  “Sir?” questioned Marshal Flutay.

  “A storm is coming,” frowned Lord Marak. “I cannot offer more information at this time, but the readiness of your troops is important. Keep them well trained.”

  “You may count on them, Lord Marak,” declared Marshal Flutay.

  Botal’s men swarmed up the gangplank and inspected the barge. Within moments they signaled, and Botal escorted Lord Marak and the others aboard. Lord Marak and Squad Leader Botal entered the small cabin. The majority of the squad also entered, although four members took up positions on the deck as the lines were cast off.

  As the barge entered the flow of the river, HawkShadow roamed the deck examining every parcel. StarWind went forward and sat on a crate near the bow. She stared off into the dark as the barge picked up speed. Mistake moved quietly through the dark and sat next to StarWind. For a long time, neither of them spoke.

  “The questions come slow to your lips,” StarWind said softly. “I suspect that you want to know about MistyTrail, but you are also fearful of the answers you will receive.”

  “You are perceptive,” replied Mistake. “The thought of a sister in the Sakova excites me, but I do not see how it could possibly be. She could not possibly be any farther from the village that I grew up in. I do not wish to entertain false hopes.”

  “You are wise,” StarWind smiled sympathetically. “MistyTrail has never known any family of her own, but she is like family to all of us.”

  “She does not know her mother and father?” questioned Mistake.

  “She has none,” replied the Sakovan spy. “MistyTrail came to the Sakova as a young girl. She was not born there.”

  “She wasn’t?” Mistake said excitedly. “Then maybe she was transported from Fakara somehow? Do you think she will remember?”

  “I remember the day that MistyTrail joined us,” offered StarWind. “I was but a little girl at the time myself. It was in the year of the storm.”

  “The year of the storm?” Mistake echoed. “Explain.”

  “When I was a small girl,” StarWind began, “a tremendous storm raged through the Sakova. Even the oldest of elders could not remember ever witnessing a storm so savaging before. Large fargi trees were felled by the dozens, and the sevemore trees were toppled by the hundreds. We later heard that some of the Omungan cities had houses floating through the streets. Other houses were totally destroyed.”

  “That sounds horrible,” shrugged Mistake, “but what does it have to do with MistyTrail?”

  “That is how she came to the Sakova,” continued StarWind. “One of our patrols discovered a man with a child strapped to his back. The man was near death, but he told a tale of endurance before he died. He was a fisherman and had been out at sea when the storm struck them without warning.”

  “Them?” questioned Mistake. “Why would a fisherman take a child out to sea?”

  “He didn’t,” explained StarWind. “He fished with another villager. When the storm blew in, they decided to return to their village. That is when they heard a child crying. They searched for a long time before they found her. Perhaps the delay caused by the searching cost them their lives. We will never know.”

  “They were brave men,” Mistake said as her lips compressed with sadness.

  “They were indeed,” nodded StarWind. “As they neared the coast of Omunga, their small ship crashed upon rocks offshore. They tried taking turns carrying the child and swimming, but it proved too difficult. Finally, one of the fishermen strapped the child to the back of the other man. The man with the child was the only one to reach the shore. The other fisherman was lost at sea.”

  “That is terrible,” sniffed Mistake as she thought briefly of her own narrow escape from the sea.

  “It was a ferocious storm,” nodded StarWind. “The surviving fisherman made it to shore just as the brunt of the storm hit. There was no place for him to take shelter, so he walked in a daze. There was no way for him to even tell what direction he was walking. He wandered into the Sakova instead of along the coast. When we found him, there was not much life left in him. He told his tale and asked us to care for the child. Then he died.”

  “So that is how MistyTrail came to be a Sakovan?” asked Mistake. “So I am no closer to finding out if she is my relative?”

  “I can only tell of what I know,” answered StarWind. “What the child was doing out in the sea will never be known. I am sorry that I cannot tell you more.”

  “She is your relative,” HawkShadow said from the darkness. “Nobody knows MistyTrail as well as I do. You look like her. You move like her. You even think like her. I have no doubt that you are related to MistyTrail. Tell us of your own childhood.”

  Mistake’s eyes scanned the darkness as she sought to see HawkShadow, but the Sakovan assassin could not be seen.

  “I know little of my childhood,” confessed Mistake. “I, too, was found by a fisherman, but my early years were far different. The woman who took me in was full of hatred towards me. It was she who gave me the name Mistake.”

  “Why do you keep it?” asked StarWind. “Without parents, you could call yourself whatever you wish. MistyTrail was named after the place she was found. Surely you can call yourself something else?”

  “I suppose that I could,” shrugged Mistake, “but I will not. I had to become hard to survive after running away. My name is a constant reminder of those days when I lived as a reviled being. How can I be strong enough to survive if even my name intimidates me?”

  “And you are stubborn and hard on yourself like MistyTrail,” HawkShadow chuckled. “I think you should return to the Sakova with us.”

  “HawkShadow?” interrupted StarWind. “What are you thinking?”

  “I know, StarWind,” defended HawkShadow, “but I also think I know what Lyra would say if she heard of Mistake. Our Star would extend an invitation for Mistake to visit. I guarantee it.”

  “You are probably right,” nodded StarWind, “but do not hold out empty promises. We should ask Lyra before giving fa
lse hope to Mistake.”

  “I understand,” interjected Mistake. “I have heard some things about the Sakova. I know that outsiders are forbidden to enter, but I also know that I will do anything to find my family, even if that means going where I am not welcome.”

  HawkShadow laughed from the darkness, and Mistake turned around with a scowl on her face.

  “Do not laugh at me,” Mistake said sternly, even though HawkShadow was not visible. “You have no idea what I am capable of. My carozit will guide me to her.”

  “I am laughing because I could have foretold exactly what you were going to say,” chuckled HawkShadow as he stepped out of the shadow of a large crate. “It is as if you are MistyTrail.”

  “You know her that well?” asked Mistake in a calmer voice.

  “Very well,” nodded HawkShadow. “I have personally trained her for several years. I could train you as well. In addition to moving swiftly as you do, I can teach you to move silently. You would make an excellent addition to the Sakova.”

  “No,” Mistake shook her head. “I am sworn to aid the Astor. Rejji will need my help in restoring Fakara, but I can make a trip to the Sakova to meet MistyTrail.”

  “What is this carozit you speak of?” questioned StarWind.

  Mistake reached into her pack and extracted the carozit. She held it upside down and watched as the balls descended. They did not descend as far as they had at Fardale and Mistake frowned.

  “We are moving away from her,” Mistake said softly. “At Fardale the balls hung lower. When they fully descend and touch one another, my family will be next to me.”

  “Amazing,” frowned StarWind.

  “Why are you so sad about it?” questioned Mistake.

  “She is not sad,” interrupted HawkShadow. “She is worried. The carozit could lead you directly to StarCity. Our homeland has been hidden from outsiders for generations. To know that this magical carozit can lead you there is rather disturbing.”

  “Does it work in the hands of anyone?” questioned StarWind.

  “It does,” Mistake nodded nervously. “Its use revealed that Bakhai was Rejji’s brother. Do not try to take it from me.”

  “We shall not,” promised StarWind, “but it may mean that MistyTrail will have to leave the Sakova.”

  “Let’s not jump to any conclusions,” warned HawkShadow. “Lord Marak says that this Astor is tied to Lyra as much as the Torak is. I believe that we are all on the same side. Let us notify Lyra of what we have discovered. She will know what to do.”

  * * *

  The Kamaril soldier crept silently up the path of destruction leading to the cave of Aakuta. His brown and yellow uniform blended in fairly well with the destroyed trees and shrubs. When he reached the ledge that the cave sat on, he looked around nervously. The dark mage was nowhere in sight, but a small pile of human skulls were piled near the entrance to the cave. Quietly he eased himself away from the edge of the cliff before calling out.

  “Aakuta,” he said loudly, “I come in peace with an plea from my lord. Please here me out.”

  Loud grumbling flowed out of the cave. The soldier trembled nervously as the mage emerged from the cave and looked about. His head snapped towards the Kamaril soldier. Although the soldier could not see the mage’s face, he could envision the glare of rage that was hidden by the black hood.

  “How dare you disturb me!” growled Aakuta. “What are you doing here?”

  “Do not strike me,” quivered the soldier. “Lord Druck has sent me to ask for your help. His only son is dying. He begs you to come and save his boy.”

  “I am not a healer,” spat Aakuta. “I have no time for such sentimental trash. Let the dying die as they are supposed to.”

  “But you healed a soldier of the Aritor clan,” protested the soldier. “Lord Druck heard of it from the Aritor lord. You must help.”

  “So that is how you found me,” snarled Aakuta. “That squad leader broke his vow to me. Now he must die.”

  “No, no,” the soldier shook his head vigorously. “That is not true. I was with Lord Druck when he spoke to the Aritor lord. The squad leader was punished for refusing to give your location. Another soldier in the squad that you attacked told us of your location. Nobody must die, Aakuta. I come begging for your help in saving a life. Why can’t you help?”

  “You and your people are none of my concern,” retorted the dark mage. “I want to be left in peace. Now flee before you die.”

  “I will die if I return without you,” protested the soldier. “Lord Druck will pay you well for your help.”

  “I have no use for your gold,” scowled Aakuta as his arm rose menacingly, “nor your life. Prepare to die.”

  “Wait!” shouted the soldier. “If you kill me, Lord Druck will just send another, and another, until you are bothered every day. Even if you have no use for gold, Lord Druck does. Go aid his son, and take his gold. Charge enough and he will never bother you again.”

  Aakuta lowered his arm and remained silent for a moment. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm.

  “What did your lord tell you to offer me?” asked the dark mage.

  “He did not specify a figure,” answered the soldier. “He instructed me to tell you that he would pay more gold than you could imagine.”

  “And what figure do you feel would be outrageous enough to spread the word that I am to be left alone?” inquired Aakuta.

  “I know he would gladly pay a thousand gold to have his son healed,” shrugged the soldier. “Perhaps ten thousand gold would make Lord Druck wince.”

  The soldier was startled when Aakuta suddenly laughed evilly. Whatever humorous thought had passed through the dark mage’s mind, Aakuta did not share it.

  “Have you brought a horse for me?” asked Aakuta.

  “I have,” nodded the soldier with a gasp of relief. “It is yours to keep. I explained that you would need a way to come back here when you were done.”

  “You think well for a clansman,” quipped Aakuta. “Let’s get this over with. I wish to return to my studies.”

  The soldier led the way down the steep incline. When he reached the bottom, he turned to make sure Aakuta was following him. The dark mage was nowhere in sight.

  “Come, come,” Aakuta snapped impatiently. “I do not have time to waste.”

  The soldier spun and saw Aakuta already sitting on the spare horse. He shook his head and swiftly mounted his own horse. The soldier rode along the narrow trail at a fairly fast pace and was surprised to see that Aakuta had no trouble keeping up with him.

  “How far is your estate?” asked Aakuta.

  “Half a day’s journey,” answered the soldier.

  “Bah,” grumbled the mage. “Stop your horse.”

  The soldier cursed under his breath as he halted his mount. He had managed to convince the dark mage to accompany him, and now it looked like he had changed his mind. He wondered what he could do.

  “Get off the horse,” ordered Aakuta as he dismounted.

  The soldier complied, and Aakuta walked forward with the reins for both horses. He stared into the eyes of each horse as he mumbled some unintelligible words. The mage finished by brushing his hand lightly over each horse and then mounting one of them.

  “Get back on and let’s ride,” commanded the dark mage.

  The soldier mounted his horse as he shook his head in confusion. No sooner had he mounted than his horse started galloping. The soldier hung on tightly as both horses raced along the road.

  “You owe me another horse,” shouted Aakuta. “These will die when we reach your estate.”

  When they arrived at the Kamaril estate, the horses did indeed die. Aakuta marched up the steps of the mansion without a glance backwards. The soldier ran up the stairs and opened the door for the mage.

  Lord Druck immediately appeared and stood gazing at the mage covered entirely in black. He waited patiently for the mage to bow.

  “Where is the ill boy?” Aakuta snapped. “Take me to
him.”

  A look of astonishment fell over the lord’s face, but the soldier swiftly intervened.

  “Follow me,” the soldier said as he led the way towards the staircase leading upstairs.

  Aakuta followed the soldier while Lord Druck and a host of important clansmen gathered and also followed. The soldier led the way to a private room and opened the door. Aakuta swept through the door and stood by the side of the bed. The boy’s body was covered in oozing boils and his eyes were swollen shut. Aakuta stood and stared at him.

  “Well,” snapped Lord Druck as clansmen squeezed into the room, “are you just going to stand there looking at him? Do something.”

  “Get out,” Aakuta said sternly.

  “Get out?” echoed Lord Druck as everyone in the room stiffened. “This is my home, and that is my son. Do not tell me what to do.”

  “I said to get out,” shouted Aakuta. “Either you leave, or I will.”

  People fled immediately, but Lord Druck stood his ground for almost a minute before departing and grumbling under his breath. The soldier closed the door as he left, leaving the dark mage alone with the sick boy. Aakuta shook his head as his eyes ran down the boy’s body. He stooped over the boy and ripped the tunic from his body. Some of the boils on the boy’s chest began to bleed from the wrenching of the cloth.

  Aakuta was about to throw the tunic on the floor when something pierced his hand. He looked down with a rage of annoyance on his face. He saw a small pin decorated in the colors of the Kamaril clan. The pin indicated that the wearer was a member of the lord’s family. He pulled the pin free from the cloth and stuck it in his pouch. He tossed the tunic to the floor and leaned over the boy.

  Aakuta closed his eyes and began chanting verses that he had learned in his youth. His large hands stretched out, one resting on the boy’s head, the other grasping the boy’s arm. For over an hour Aakuta chanted with his eyes closed and his hands unmoving. When he was done, he opened his eyes and released the boy. His head spun as he staggered across the room. Finally he dropped to his knees and retched. For several minutes Aakuta retched and remained on his knees. Finally he composed himself and rose. He walked to the table where a basin of water and cloths sat. He cleaned himself up with the available water and walked back to the bed. He looked down at the boy and nodded. His hand reached out to the boy’s shoulder, and he shook the boy. The boy’s eyes opened and grew wide as he gazed upon the dark mage.