Star of Sakova fl-2

by Richard S. Tuttle

  Syman returned with bread and strips of dried meat and they ate in silence while watching the barn for any changes. Lyra nearly choked on her food when the four people exited the barn and made their way to the house. Four dark clad raiders opened the front door and entered the house as if it was their own. Lyra fought the fear rising in her chest as she frantically started searching the rest of the farm for more dark clad figures.

  Chapter 3

  Puzzles of Thought

  The sky was turning black when Antello and Walak crept up the hill to join Syman and Lyra. Lyra had not spotted any other raiders on the farm, but the four that entered the farmhouse had not left either.

  “It bothers me that we have not seen the farmer or his family,” Lyra muttered almost to herself.

  “Perhaps they are in the farmhouse,” offered Syman. “When it is dark I can go down to have a look.”

  “Are you crazy?” Walak almost screamed. “We shouldn’t be within a hundred leagues of here. I say we get out of here now while we can. You saw what they did at the Academy.”

  “We weren’t expecting them at the Academy,” Antello retorted. “This time they don’t know about us being here and there are only four of them. We can take them.”

  “We aren’t taking anyone,” Syman corrected. “I said I would go have a look, not attack them. Besides, we really don’t know how many there are. We saw four, but there could have been more in the house before we got here. I do not look forward to fighting any raiders, not even four. I do not think we would fare very well. They are skilled fighters and we are just students. You would do well to remember that Antello.”

  “And we are not going to run away,” interjected Lyra. “Aguara may be in trouble and he has been a friend of the Academy for as long as I can remember. Most of our supplies come from this village. Aguara supplies most of our food. I cannot run away while there might be something I can do to help him, even if it is just going to the village for help.”

  “You people are crazy,” Walak spat. His face was white and beads of perspiration dotted his brow. “These people are killers and would not give a thought to cutting our throats. You may want to play games with them, but I am getting out of here. I am not going to die just to inflate your egos.”

  “We’ve already killed one of them,” bragged Antello. “They are not so tough. Master Caulder taught us well and we know how to take care of ourselves.”

  “Enough,” demanded Syman. “Walak, if you want to leave you are free to do so, but I would not go towards the village if I were you. There were over a hundred raiders heading to the village and while I am not sure how many are in the farmhouse, I know it is not near a hundred. That means the rest are in the village most likely. Antello, stay and guard Lyra. I am going to check out the farmhouse.”

  Cutting off any response, Syman rose and dashed into the trees. Antello rose to follow and looked down at Lyra. The moment of hesitation took Syman out of sight and Antello sighed and sat down next to Lyra. “I wish he would have waited for me. It would be safer with two of us going down.”

  “Actually, you are better off here,” smiled Lyra. “We can watch and if he gets into trouble, we can create a diversion for him.”

  “Watch?” questioned Antello. “It is so dark now that we cannot even see him.”

  “True,” Lyra replied, “but the raiders cannot see him either. The lights from the farmhouse will allow Syman to see in, but the raiders will be blind looking out into the darkness. Syman will be alright.”

  Lyra hoped she was right. She knew Syman was a cautious person, but she could not help but feel fearful for him. She knew that Syman had left abruptly to stop Antello from going with him and Lyra agreed with his judgement. Antello was too quick to pick a fight even with outrageous odds. She looked over at Walak who had not left but sat apart from the others, his body visibly shaking. The sweat was pouring off his face and Lyra could smell fear emanating from him. It was obvious that he wanted to leave, but he was afraid to go off on his own. Lyra felt sorry for him.

  “Everything will work out, Walak,” soothed Lyra. “They will never know that Syman was there and he will back soon. We are not looking to fight with anyone, least of all the raiders, but we have to get word to someone in the village about what happened at the Academy. You will soon be back home with your family.”

  “If they are not killed by the raiders,” sobbed Walak. “They might be lying dead back there now and we wouldn’t even know.”

  “Not unless your father gave up using his ornate coach,” offered Lyra. “The coach was not there when the battle took place and I have never seen him arrive without it. If we can get word to the village, then he will know enough not to go there without troops. Do you see why it is important that we get word to someone about the massacre?”

  Walak nodded. “I have never seen anything so terrible before. One side cutting anyone who got in their way and the other burning people where they stood. It was horrible. All of those students dead and just because of your father.”

  Lyra winced at Walak’s remarks, but she withheld the words she wanted to blurt out. She told herself that Walak was frightened and didn’t really mean what he said, still the words stung like a lashing. Lyra wondered why her father had resorted to offensive magic. She would not have believed it had she not witnessed the scorch marks on the walls and the burnt bodies. She had thought her father would die before he would ever use offensive magic again, but she was obviously wrong. Maybe she didn’t know him as well as she thought she did.

  “Tell me what happened at the Academy,” Lyra asked hoping to get Walak’s mind away from his fear. Perhaps just talking about it might help her as well as Walak. She knew the shock of the attack and the loss of her parents had not fully hit her yet and she may well react the same as Walak if she did not start talking about it.

  Walak looked from Lyra to Antello, but Antello was not paying any attention to the conversation because he was concentrating on the farmhouse below, searching for any sight of Syman. Walak seemed to warm to the idea of talking and Lyra saw his body relax slightly as the shaking subsided.

  “It all happened so fast,” Walak began while digging at the grass with a short stick, his eyes directed downward as if afraid to meet Lyra’s gaze. “I heard the fighting downstairs first. It was faint as if Master Caulder was having a particularly raucous session with his students. Then Master Caulder came running up the stairs with some of his students, yelling about an attack. I cannot remember the whole conversation, but I sensed that he was forfeiting the lower floors to the raiders and the Academy would make its stand in the magic classrooms.”

  Walak paused to wipe at his eyes and returned his attention to the stick he was playing with. “Like I said, I was in an empty room so I did not see everything. Rhodella was in the classroom with Master Malafar and they started arguing. I think he knew the raiders were coming for him and he was going to give himself up to stop the slaughter. Rhodella would not hear of it though and shouted for him to fight back. He refused.

  Walak started crying again as he relived the nightmare and Lyra felt ashamed that she was making him talk, but she knew that he had to tell his story to heal his troubled mind.

  “I just cannot believe that Master Malafar would not use magic to protect the students,” cried Walak. “We looked up to him and Rhodella pleaded with him as the raiders started charging up the stairs from both ends of the hall. Master Caulder and his cadets held the raiders off at one end of the corridor, but the raiders started coming up the other stairway and he was forced to retreat to the classroom. Only the burning fireballs hurled at the raiders allowed him and his remaining cadets to get back to the classroom.”

  “So Master Malafar finally relented to use his magic,” Lyra sighed. “It didn’t do much good though, did it?”

  Walak looked up and met Lyra’s eyes. “No, he never did use magic. Rhodella was the one throwing the fireballs. I didn’t even know she knew magic, but she killed a lot of raider
s. Master Malafar was furious with her, but it didn’t matter for long. The raiders forced their way into the classroom over the burning bodies of their comrades. There were just too many of them to stop. I knew it was over then. I hid in a closet until I could not hear any of them.”

  Lyra sat staring at Walak with her mouth gaping. It wasn’t possible. Rhodella had never known magic. Walak must be mistaken. Yet she had seen the scorch marks and had thought it impossible that Master Malafar would use offensive magic.

  “Are you sure?” Lyra questioned Walak. “Are you absolutely sure it was Rhodella and not Master Malafar or one of the students?”

  “Positive,” Walak stated. “You didn’t know she used magic either I guess. Well, she knew what she was doing. I have seen magicians throw fireballs before and hers were quite powerful. She must have been a Master in her own right. I only wish that Master Malafar had taught us that spell. The students might have been able to survive the attack. Now they are all…”

  Walak threw down his stick and stormed off down the hill towards the horses. Lyra sat staring at the stick as Walak’s story went through her head again and again. How could Rhodella have kept her magic secret from everyone for so long? Why was she willing to use it even when Master Malafar forbade it? Why wouldn’t Master Malafar use it when everyone’s life was in danger? How little did she really know about her own parents? Her mind reeled with questions that would never be answered.

  Antello’s touch on her arm brought her out of her stupor. “Syman is on his way back.”

  Lyra crawled to the top of the hill and peered out into the darkness towards the farm. Only the lit farmhouse was visible and she could not see Syman at all. Within moments, Syman slipped out of the trees and lay watching the farmhouse.

  “There are six of them,” he reported. “They are getting ready to return to the village. It looks like they beat the farmer pretty bad, but the wife and son appear not to have been harmed. I didn’t want to stay down there in case they decided to check the farm before they left. We need to make sure they all leave before we go back down.”

  Lyra merely nodded as the three students stared at the farmhouse. It was a while before the raiders left, but there was enough light from the open door to count the people leaving.

  “I am going down alone,” Lyra stated. “Try to keep an eye on Walak. I am afraid he might do something stupid.”

  Syman and Antello started to object, but Lyra’s stare froze their objections. Lyra strode into the trees and started down the hill towards the farm. The field was rough and rutted in places and Lyra wished for a moon to shed some light on the ground. Keeping her eyes focused on the lit farmhouse, Lyra stumbled her way across the fields and finally stood next to one of the windows.

  Standing with her back to the wall, she stood silently, listening to the sounds from within the house. Someone was moving around and she could detect the movement of pots and sloshing water, although the occupants’ voices were kept too low to hear. A ripping sound convinced Lyra that someone was trying to bandage the farmer and she risked a look inside.

  The farmer’s wife was tending to the farmer’s bruises and the son was stirring a pot on the hearth. No one else was visible. Lyra eased her way around to the front of the house and gazed into the darkness towards the barn and the road to the village. Nothing moved in either direction and Lyra opened the door and stepped in without knocking. The occupants all looked towards the door, fear clearly etched on their faces. Lyra closed the door and stood silently with her back against it as she looked around the room.

  “Lyra!” the farmer’s wife exclaimed with obvious relief. “They haven’t found you then. Come in and be welcome.”

  Lyra went straight to Aguara and looked over his bruises. “Sorry for my entry,” she apologized. “I wasn’t sure if all of them had left. We have been watching and waiting for hours.”

  “You are always welcome,” Aguara winced with pain.

  Lyra put her hands on Aguara and gave him the benefit of her healing magic. “That should ease your pain a little,” she declared. “Give me a few moments and I can speed the healing of your wounds although I cannot heal them entirely.”

  Lyra spent a few moments on Aguara, checking his bruises and using her magic to speed the healing process. The cuts and abrasions were not serious although the raiders certainly had given Aguara a beating. No bones were broken and he did not appear to have any internal injuries. After doing what she could for the farmer, Lyra sat at the table.

  “Those raiders were only a small portion of the band,” she explained. “Over a hundred of them attacked the Academy this morning. They killed everyone they could find and kidnapped Master Malafar. Rhodella is dead. Master Caulder is dead. Only four of us escaped. I came to warn you and to ask the villagers to see that the bodies are properly buried. I cannot stay and do it because they are searching for me. Will you see that they are given a proper burial?”

  It took a moment for the shock of her words to register, but Aguara nodded his agreement. “I thought something terrible had happened,” he sighed. “They rode into the village earlier in the day, probably right after the attack on the Academy, although we did not know about the attack then. They were looking for you. You are well liked in this village, as are your parents, and nobody would speak to the raiders. They dragged the village leader, Senjel, out of his home and whipped him in the street. Still, no one would talk. They put a rope around his neck and hung him from the tree in the square and used him for sword practice. Then the bandits split up and started entering every home with their questions. I am afraid that most people spoke freely by this time, but luckily, no one knew of your whereabouts. I slipped out of town and returned here, but I guess it was only a matter of time before they got around to the outlying farms. They were very frustrated that they could not find you and took their frustrations out on whomever they could. You must get far away from here child. I will see to the burials for you.”

  “I am sorry for the grief I have brought to your village,” Lyra apologized. “I am grateful to you and all of the village for your kindness. Please let the rest of the villagers know that I appreciate their acceptance of this burden for me.”

  “Nonsense!” exclaimed the farmer’s wife. “You have brought no grief to this village. You are a victim like the rest of us. You are always welcome in our home and our village and we would agree to the burials if no one asked us to because it is the proper thing to do. You must not take blame for something you have no control over, Lyra. Let me get some provisions together for you and your friends. Where will you go? What do you need?”

  “You can stay here,” offered Aguara. “We can hide you and those bandits will not get anything out of me, I promise.”

  Lyra hugged the farmer’s wife and cried. “Thank you for everything. We have provisions from the Academy and we cannot stay. Forgive me for not saying my plans, but I feel you will be safer if you do not know. The raiders will probably come back again when they cannot find me anywhere else. I must be going now before they think to search around the village more.”

  Aguara merely nodded sadly as Lyra eased herself out the front door. Lyra stumbled across the fields and back up the hill, satisfied that at least there would be proper burials for the victims of the slaughter.

  “We need to ride some more tonight to get away from the village,” Lyra announced as she joined her travelling companions. “I think the raiders will start looking farther out when dawn breaks.”

  Nobody spoke as they mounted their horses and headed deeper into the forest. Lyra tried to sort her thoughts as she rode. So much was happening so quickly that she felt like she was rolling downhill and couldn’t find a way to stop. There were no answers to her questions, only more questions. Slowly she tried to organize what facts she knew and try to identify the questions that were most important. Then she would search for answers to those questions.

  Somebody wanted Master Malafar badly enough to slaughter an entire Academy to get
him. Whoever wanted him must be wealthy enough to afford so many bandits, especially bandits who were paid so well that they could afford to forgo the spoils of the attack. This mysterious person also wanted Master Malafar to perform some magic that only the Master could do, and magic that the Master would refuse to do. That is why they hunted her now. They knew Master Malafar would refuse, which means that the task is either obviously evil or involves offensive magic. Her father would refuse for either reason. What didn’t make any sense was the fact that her father held his ideals higher than life itself, so why would they need a hostage to make the Master perform? By Walak’s account, Rhodella had sacrificed her life to save Master Malafar, but her father was ready to give himself up without a fight. If he valued his own life so little, how would a hostage’s life matter more to him than his would?

  A gust of cold wind blew through Lyra’s hair and she lifted her head and gazed into the dark sky. The air smelled like rain and Lyra noticed the leaves on the bushes were turned upside down.

  “We are going to get a blow soon,” Lyra called. “See if you can find some shelter.”

  Antello shouted back an acknowledgement and Lyra returned to her puzzling questions. A rich person who needs some evil magic done must be part of the answer, she conceded. If that was true then she was willing to bet that other mages, perhaps not of the same stature as her father, were probably coerced into trying the evil magic before the mysterious wealthy person organized the attack on the Academy. She wondered how she could find out if this was true and if the information would lead her closer to finding her father.

  Another troubling revelation was that Rhodella was a mage and, according to Walak’s account, a rather proficient one. She also had used a dagger to fend off the raiders. Neither of these details squared with Lyra’s knowledge of her mother. Lyra had been sure that Rhodella shared Master Malafar’s pacifist beliefs. Rhodella had never been known to use magic, in fact she never even participated in any of the discussions regarding magic, either in regards to the Academy or Lyra’s education. Lyra sighed. How could she live with two people her entire life and not really know them? Had she been so wrong about her mother or had Rhodella been under some type of magic spell? Perhaps Walak was mistaken about the source of the fireballs, but Lyra could not think of anyone else who could have been responsible.