Star of Sakova fl-2

by Richard S. Tuttle

  Malafar whirled with his teeth bared and his hand started to rise, but he caught himself at the sight of Goral sitting casually on the stump and merely clenched his fists. “If you are trying to anger me,” growled Malafar, “you are doing a good job of it.”

  “I am not trying to anger you,” assured Goral. “I am trying to understand you, but I cannot. I am afraid that I am a little slow with such complicated things. Your wife was a famous and well-respected Sakovan and I heard that you loved her deeply, so I cannot understand how you can hate Sakovans so much.”

  “Because they are dedicated to destroying the government,” Malafar hissed through clenched teeth. “Rhodella gave up those revolutionary ideals when we married. ”

  “I am sorry Master Malafar,” pleaded Goral, “but that makes even less sense to me. If being Sakovan means that you are a savage, can you just renounce being a Sakovan and then not be the same person you were before? I mean does wanting to hurt the Omungan government make one a savage and when she didn’t want that anymore then it was okay?”

  Malafar sighed and shook his head. Why was he wasting his time talking some half-witted thing that was twice as tall as anyone should be? “Yes, Goral,” he said calmly. “She didn’t want to hurt the government anymore so it was okay. Don’t you have something to do?”

  “No,” Goral shook his head, “but I still don’t get it. I am Sakovan and I have no desire to hurt any Omungans, but you are Omungan and killed the Katana. Does that make me okay and you a savage?”

  Malafar stared at Goral and raised his eyebrows. Slowly his eyes fell to his feet and he mechanically finished dressing, his mind whirling with the simplicity and truthfulness of Goral’s statement. He had killed the Katana, the Holy Leader of Omunga. But the Katana had Alfred killed. But Alfred had chosen to become a Sakovan. He shook his head and slumped to sit on the stump across from Goral.

  “I don’t know, Goral,” he admitted. “Did you know my son, Alfred?”

  “Yes,” smiled Goral. “He was a great person. I only knew him for a short time, but he was my friend. I liked him as I like Lyra. I would like to feel the same way towards their father, but I get easily confused. You have so much hostility towards the Sakovans, but I do not think you even know them.”

  “I don’t need to know them personally,” Malafar snapped with renewed irritability. “I know the things they have done and that is enough.”

  “You don’t know anything about what I have done,” frowned Goral. “Does that mean that you can like me even though I am Sakovan?”

  Malafar met Goral’s gaze and pressed his lips together tightly. “What is the point in this Goral?” he asked. “I have killed the Katana and you would only be a friend of a dead man for it will not take them long to find me.”

  “They will never find you in the Sakova with Lyra,” cheered Goral. “The Omungans don’t come into the Sakova much anymore except for the groups of assassins that were chasing Lyra.”

  “Assassins?” questioned Malafar. “They followed her into the Sakova?”

  “Yes,” nodded Goral, “but they didn’t get her.”

  “Well at least I know it wasn’t the Sakovans who raided the school then,” mused Master Malafar.

  “Oh no,” protested Goral, “it was someone high up in the Omungan government. HawkShadow made one of the assassins talk.”

  “Someone in the government?” echoed Malafar, his eyes closing as the words kept repeating. “The Katana, I bet.”

  “No,” assured Goral. “SunChaser spoke to the Katana just before he died. We are sure it wasn’t him.”

  “One of your spies spoke with the Katana?” asked Malafar with an incredulous tone. “You can’t be serious.”

  “I’m sorry,” frowned the giant. “You know her as Cherri, but her real name is SunChaser. The Katana knew she was a Sakovan spy, has for years.”

  “Then why didn’t he have her arrested?” questioned Malafar.

  “He said we provided a good service to him,” explained Goral. “He was more afraid of people in his own government than the Sakovans because we only wanted information and his people wanted power.”

  Malafar clasped his hands and wrung his fingers as he shook his head. “This doesn’t make any sense,” he sighed. “Goral, I do not mean to be rude, but I cannot believe what you are telling me. It is incomprehensible that the Katana knew about one of your spies and did nothing about it.”

  “I though so at first too,” confided Goral, “but just look at what happened.”

  “What do you mean what happened?” inquired the mage. “I killed the Katana is what happened. What does that have to do with his people?”

  Goral’s eyes widened with the thought that he had said too much. He was not sure what Malafar would do if he knew the truth and having him run back to Okata to try and kill Alazar would not do anyone any good, so he didn’t answer the question.

  “Goral,” prodded Malafar. “You know something you are not telling. I want to know what it is.”

  “I can’t,” refused Goral. “You might do something wrong.”

  “Goral,” insisted Malafar, “I am not a little …” He stopped and remembered StarWind’s words to him not long ago. He was acting like a child she had said. He had been, he admitted to himself. A little child throwing a tantrum and he was about to do it again with Goral. He inhaled deeply and calmed himself. “Goral,” he said softly, “I must know what you were going to say. What did my killing the Katana have to do with anything else?”

  Goral shook his head and fiddled with his beard. “Will you promise me something if I tell you?” Goral finally asked.

  “What do you want me to promise you?” Malafar asked skeptically.

  “That you will go with us freely to see Lyra before you do anything else,” Goral blurted out.

  “Into the Sakova?” cried Malafar. “If she is free to leave, why can’t she come to me?”

  “Would you endanger her by having her meet you while you are being hunted?” questioned Goral. “You do not have to be afraid of the Sakova, I will protect you.”

  “Protect me?” laughed the Master mage. “There is nothing in the Sakova that frightens me.”

  “If you do not fear the Sakova then you have no reason to refuse to go,” smiled Goral. “Your daughter will be relieved to see you again.”

  “You suckered me,” pouted Malafar shaking his head in disbelief. Finally he smiled at Goral. “Very well,” he agreed, “I will go see Lyra before doing anything else. Now that I have made your simplistic self happy, enlighten me about what it is that I should not know.”

  “Have you ever heard of the drug Quetara?” Goral asked.

  “Quetara,” mused Master Malafar. “I have heard the name before, but I cannot place it.”

  “It is an evil drug,” Goral explained. “It causes one to become confused and susceptible to manipulation. You were under the influence of this drug when SunChaser rescued you after the assassination. You have been under its influence for some time.”

  “Preposterous,” challenged Malafar. “I don’t use any drugs, especially ones that could affect my magic skills.”

  “I didn’t say you took the drug,” continued Goral. “I said you were under its influence. It was administered to you while you were in the mage cells.”

  “But that means,” Malafar began and stopped abruptly.

  “Did you know that Alazar is now the Katana of Omunga?” asked Goral.

  “Inconceivable,” growled Malafar. “He is the one who set me free.”

  “Free to kill the Katana,” informed Goral. “The wound in your back was from Alazar as well, but he only cast it after the Katana was dead. If you had not blinded everybody, he would have been the hero for killing you.”

  Malafar leaped to his feet and started pacing furiously. Could the giant be right? He could be lying. He is Sakovan after all, but why would he? What would he gain by divulging such nonsense and passing it off as truth? And how would the Sakovans know abo
ut such a drug if they didn’t use it themselves? What game were they playing with him?

  “How do you know Quetara was used on me? He asked the giant.

  “We didn’t,” admitted Goral. “It was Fisher who noticed the symptoms. It leaves the skin with a yellow hue and the subject does things that are out of character, such as a mage who has vowed never to use offensive magic using it to kill someone.”

  “Fisher is one of you isn’t he?” Malafar asked trying to clear the confusion about whether the Sakovans knew or not.

  “No,” replied Goral. “He is Khadoran. He just happened to be talking to us when they shut down the city. We could not leave him to fend for himself so we took him with us to SunChaser’s house where we found out about you.”

  “A Khadoran,” mused Malafar. “It makes sense they would know about such things. Why in the world would the Sakovans be talking to a Khadoran?”

  “That is hardly relevant to what we are talking about,” sighed Goral as he questioned how much he should be saying. He had already divulged more than he should have, but he did not want Lyra’s father going back into Okata. “The short answer is that Fisher believes that Alazar plans to attack Khadora after he wipes out the Sakovans. He came down here seeking information that would confirm it.”

  “I agree,” sighed Malafar. “We do not need to muddy the waters further by bringing Khadora into this. So you are saying that Alazar drugged me and used me to kill the Katana so that he could become the ruler of Omunga?”

  “Yes,” confirmed the Sakovan giant. “The Katana is shielded from magical attacks, but your powers are so strong that you were capable of breaching them. Alazar could not do it without you, or someone like you, which is why he also was hunting for your brother, Temiker.”

  Temiker thought Malafar. He hadn’t spoken to his brother in years because of Alfred, but was that right. Alfred was killed by Temiker’s student when he was a Monitor, but Alazar said that was a fabrication he made up. He also said Alfred was a Sakovan spy and killed by the Katana, or was it a Sakovan assassin? He was confused. Did Alazar say all three things? His son could not have been killed by Temiker’s student and the Katana, so one of the stories was a lie. Which one? Either he wrongfully shunned his brother for years, or he wrongfully killed the Katana. Either way he had been wrong.

  “Was Alfred a spy or an assassin?” he asked Goral.

  “He was a spy and a Monitor,” Goral answered. “Alfred did not see a conflict between the two. He could live to serve the Katana, who he never expected to harm Sakova. You should ask StarWind about his beliefs.”

  “StarWind?” scowled Malafar. “She wouldn’t give me the right phase of the moon. Why should I ask her anything?”

  Goral stood and started to leave the clearing, but Malafar raced after him and grabbed his arm. “Goral,” he insisted. “Stop making me plead for information. Alfred was my son, my dearest possession, my greatest accomplishment. Why do you refuse to tell me about him?”

  Goral turned and stared down at the old mage for a moment. “She was to be your daughter,” Goral said sadly. “Alfred and StarWind were to be wed. Do not hurt her with this information, wizard. I like you, but I would do anything to keep StarWind from pain. You are correct that you have a right to know, but that right does not include hurting her. I have said too much already and I think it is time for us to be on our way.”

  Master Malafar stood with his mouth hanging open as the giant left the clearing to return to the other Sakovans. He had never even known that Alfred had noticed women, yet he had planned to marry and not spoken of it. Why? He should have been elated and bursting to tell someone.

  Malafar suddenly beat his closed fist against his thigh. Should have been elated. He surely was, but he couldn’t tell his father because the woman he loved was a dreaded Sakovan. Rhodella must have known. Alfred would have told her. And Temiker as well. Everyone but him because of his diatribes about Sakovans. Darn! Could he really have been such a fool all of his life? Could the Sakovans really be blameless for all of the things he was taught? He could never have accepted that thought before, but everyone he knew and loved appears to have sided with the Sakovans. It was time he found out for himself. He had promised Goral that he would go see Lyra and he would, but he would also find out what the Sakovans really were like while he was at it.

  He picked up the female costume he had discarded and strode off to join the others. They were all waiting silently for him and he wordlessly walked through the group and mounted his horse.

  ***

  StormSong returned to the campfire panting from exertion and sat down with the others assembled there.

  “Where is Lord Marak?” HawkShadow questioned. “You didn’t kill him did you?”

  StormSong shook her head and everyone waited until she caught her breath. “No,” she stated, “he is off to the stream for a quick dip. “I think I will take one too before we turn in.”

  “Who won?” asked MistyTrail.

  “It was not a contest of winning or losing,” StormSong explained. “Sparring with a good opponent is the best way to sharpen your skills. I do think that he is holding back though,” she admitted. “I have never fought anyone with such skill and I intend to learn every one of his tricks before we are done.”

  HawkShadow stared at StormSong with his eyes wide and his mouth open. He had never seen anyone who could match StormSong’s skills with a sword nor had he ever thought he would hear her say that such a person existed. “Are you feeling all right?” he asked sarcastically.

  “Yes,” StormSong exhaled deeply. “Pretending that I am better than him does not make it so, HawkShadow. I do not believe in fooling myself so. If I did, I would fear practicing with him and that would deprive me of the chance to better my skills.”

  “I didn’t think you could get any better than you already are,” MistyTrail complimented seriously.

  “A warrior can always better his skills,” offered Gunta, “and StormSong is right about an honest evaluation of one’s own skills. Only a fool places pride above truth.”

  “I agree,” added Halman, “and StormSong has provided Lord Marak with more of a challenge than any one person ever has that I know of. He usually spars against four or five of us, if he can find those willing to take the bruises. StormSong has come out of the spars intact and that speaks highly of her skills. The Sakovans are blessed to have such a warrior as her.”

  “Thank you,” nodded StormSong. “How did Lord Marak get to be a Lord so young?” she asked. “Was his father a Lord?”

  “No,” answered Gunta. “Marak was a soldier for Lord Ridak, a good soldier. Lord Ridak chose him to be Lord of Fardale because they needed someone who was expendable. There were some grave misdoings at the estate and the next Lord would most likely have been hung to appease the offended parties. Marak did not know that he was being sacrificed at the time and he did the best job that he could. He managed to turn the estate around and fulfil his contracts.”

  “Yes so they had to try to kill him another way,” scowled Halman. “They never really meant for him to be Lord of Fardale and they wanted the estate back.”

  “They lost,” grinned Gunta. “Lord Marak formed his own clan and beat the armies of four others to stay alive.”

  “Wow he must be lucky,” MistyTrail said.

  “Luck had nothing to do with it,” insisted Halman. “Lord Marak’s skills and his treatment of his subjects won the day. He treats his people as they have never been treated before. They would gladly die for Lord Marak rather than fail at what they do. The other armies do not fight with the same conviction.”

  “You mean that he is not indicative of a Khadoran Lord?” HawkShadow asked.

  “No,” chuckled Gunta. “In fact the other Khadoran Lords would love to see him die or disappear. He threatens their way of life and they do not like that.”

  “You mean they fear he will attack them?” inquired StormSong. “I could be wrong, but he does not appear to be the aggress
ive type.”

  “They do not fear his armies, although they should,” responded Halman. “They fear the changes to their culture. Lord Marak does not buy into the Khadoran culture. The changes that he has made are revolutionary and threaten the Khadoran Lords.”

  “Like what?” quizzed HawkShadow. “What changes could affect other clans?”

  “He does not believe in slavery,” explained Gunta. “He has freed every slave in his five clans. You must understand that Khadoran estates are built on slavery. The Lords do not wish to pay for the services performed by their subjects when they can have them for free.”

  “He has appointed women to positions of power and influence,” added Halman. “The Khadoran Lords scoff at the idea of a woman holding power. They tried to refuse to deal with the women that Lord Marak appointed, but he stood firm, even when it meant a great loss of money to him.”

  “And he accepts the indigenous people of Khadora as equals,” Gunta pointed out. “The other Lords fear and despise the Chula. You can begin to see why the other Lords want Marak dead. They were quite happy with the way things had been going until Marak showed up.”

  HawkShadow stared off into the forest in the direction of the stream and tried to visualize the culture these men had come from. He had never thought that the person coming for the meeting might have had a problem with the Sakovan leader being a woman, even though the Sakovans had never had one themselves. People were so thrilled that Kaltara finally sent them a Star that they did not question who it was. Yet there were some similarities between the two lands as well. The Chula had been driven from their land much as the Sakovans had and they also fled to the interior of the country and guarded it tenaciously. Small wonder the other Lords wanted him dead.

  “Is that why you came in that old fishing boat?” HawkShadow asked. “Will there be problems if Marak is discovered out of Khadora?”

  “Yes,” sighed Gunta. “If they find out he is gone, I would expect them to attack in his absence.”

  “They will also send an army down here to kill him if they know he travels with only the two of us for an escort,” added Halman.