Young Lord of Khadora

by Richard S. Tuttle

  “They are actually going to be able to fulfill their contracts,” surmised Lord Marshal Grefon. “I do not understand how Marak managed it, but Fardale’s watula is as healthy and bountiful as the Sorgan crop.”

  “Then Marak has served his purpose,” concluded Lord Ridak. “Recall him at once and I will deal with him.”

  “You haven’t been listening,” sighed Lord Marshal Grefon. “You have no control over Fardale. The only person out there that you have any control over is Marak and he will not cooperate with you.”

  “What are you talking about?” stormed Lord Ridak. “I made Marak Lord of Fardale and I can remove him. If the document I gave to you is not sufficient, I will have another drafted with greater powers.”

  “There is no such document that you could draft,” admitted Lord Marshal Grefon. “The pronouncement you signed to put Marak in power gives him absolute control over Fardale. You have only one sworn clansman in Fardale and that is Lord Marak.”

  “But you drafted that pronouncement,” protested Lord Ridak. “What was going through your head when you specified that clause?”

  “Marak pressed for it based upon your words in the meeting before its drafting,” explained Lord Marshal Grefon. “I could not put you in the position of going back on your word.”

  Lord Ridak clenched his fist and slammed it down on the table, making the Lord Marshal blink at the seldom displayed fury which had vaulted Lord Ridak into his leadership position in the Situ Clan. “I want Marak’s body delivered to me now,” ordered Lord Ridak. “You suggested him for the position. You deliver his body.”

  “We can hardly attack our own estate,” reminded Lord Marshal Grefon, “especially after the emissary from the Lords Council has seen the pronouncement. There is a way that we can profit greatly from Marak’s position, though.”

  “Another of your schemes?” snipped Lord Ridak. “I truly hope for your sake that this one is better than your last. What is it?”

  “We can allow others to do our work for us,” smiled Lord Marshal Grefon. “Marshal Tingo of Woodville was in Fardale when I showed up. The Ragatha Clan is nervous about Marak’s potential for cutting them off from the outside. I think that the Ragatha Clan could eliminate our problem for us.”

  “Woodville’s Army is not much larger than Fardale’s,” stated Lord Ridak. “Even if we could get them to attack, it would be an even match and you have told me that Marak is an able strategist.”

  “If Marak was facing only Woodville that might be true,” chuckled Lord Marshal Grefon, “but what if he was facing the entire Ragatha Clan?”

  “Lord Sevrin would not dare to bring his forces against Fardale,” protested Lord Ridak. “He knows that he would be faced by the entire Situ Clan.”

  “Ah, but would he?” posed Lord Marshal Grefon. “I indicated to Marshal Tingo that Lituk Valley would not raise a hand to protect Lord Marak.”

  “I fail to share your jubilant mood regarding our giving Fardale to the Ragatha Clan,” scolded Lord Ridak. “At least, with Marak in control we will get Fardale back when he dies, an event which you will precipitate immediately.”

  “You miss the obvious,” smiled Lord Marshal Grefon. “I never promised that we would let the Ragatha Clan keep Fardale. I merely indicated that we would not support Lord Marak. Let Lord Sevrin bring his Army to Fardale and remove Lord Marak from power. We would then be entirely justified in attacking the Ragatha Clan with our full fury. With Lord Sevrin’s Army all in one place, his defeat would double the size of your Situ holdings. We would not have to push out our borders at Raven’s Point to expand.”

  The first hint of a smile on Lord Ridak’s lips appeared. “My holdings would be impressive,” Lord Ridak agreed. “Lord Sevrin has never been an ally of mine in the Assembly of Lords and I certainly would not miss him. Do you think you can get him to take the bait?”

  “I think that is a distinct possibility,” chuckled Lord Marshal Grefon. “His Army is fast approaching Fardale as we speak. His entire Army is only days away from attacking Fardale and ridding us of Lord Marak.”

  “Only days away?” exclaimed Lord Ridak. “We will never get our forces together in time. How long have you known about this?”

  “Do not worry,” smiled Lord Marshal Grefon. “We do not need to have our Army ready to help Lord Marak. We will crush the Ragatha Clan as they leave Fardale to go back home. That is why I took so long getting back from Fardale. I have already visited our other estates and informed them to be ready to join with us for the attack. Lord Sevrin will spend at least a week in Fardale before he returns to his own estates. As soon as the battle is over, I will send word to our other Marshals and we will position ourselves to finish off the Ragatha Clan.”

  “And if Fardale’s crops are destroyed in the battle,” nodded Lord Ridak, “we can blame the Ragatha Clan. Yes, our Lord Marak is finally going to do something good for the Situ Clan. He is going to die in order to double my holdings. An excellent plan, Lord Marshal. Make sure nothing goes wrong with it.”

  “What could possibly go wrong?” smiled Lord Marshal Grefon. “I will even take over the Fardale estate and restore it to prosperity when all of this is over. Then you will have a faithful Lord governing it and not have to spend any more time worrying about it.”

  Lord Ridak fixed his wry gaze on Lord Marshal Grefon and eventually nodded. “I think that will be acceptable, Lord Marshal,” admitted Lord Ridak. “First, you will make sure that we are victorious. Afterwards, we will discuss your retirement as Lord Marshal of the Situ Clan.”

  Chapter 20

  Night Star

  Lord Marak looked up and smiled as the Sunnu Priest was shown into his study. Lord Marak nodded to the guard indicating that he should close the door as he left.

  “You look tired, my son,” smiled Fisher.

  “It has been a long week,” replied Lord Marak. “You don’t look like you’ve had much rest, either, Fisher. What is happening out there?”

  “Lord Sevrin and his Ragatha Clan Army are within a day's march of Fardale. I would expect the fun to begin soon. I couldn’t help noticing that your crops have not been harvested. Didn’t I give you enough notice?”

  “Your notice was sufficient for me to accomplish the tasks which are necessary to welcome our Ragatha visitors,” answered Lord Marak. “All of my laborers and craftsmen have been busy with other endeavors. I felt it necessary to change some of Fardale’s landscape. Lord Sevrin will not be amused. If everything goes well, the crops will not be harmed.”

  “I hope you are not planning on help from Lord Ridak,” mentioned Fisher while adjusting his priestly robe. “His Army is not mobilizing to aid you.”

  “I sent a runner last week,” mused Lord Marak. “He has not returned and that troubles me more than the lack of help from Lord Ridak.”

  “If your runner was Cortain Rybak,” Fisher sighed, “don’t expect him back . . . ever. I saw him arrive at Lituk Valley. He was seized on the mansion steps by Lord Marshal Grefon. He was not treated well and I would not hold out hope of seeing him alive.”

  Fury filled Lord Marak’s face as he hurled his mug across the room. He rose and paced back and forth across his study floor. The guard stationed in his sitting room cracked the door open and peered in. “Is everything all right, My Lord?” the guard asked.

  Lord Marak whirled and fixed the guard with a glare. “No, everything is not all right,” he declared. “Tell Seneschal Pito that I want him to begin on the uniforms immediately. Every person not directly involved with the military effort is to participate.”

  The guard looked quizzically at Lord Marak before withdrawing from the doorway. Lord Marak placed his hands on his desk and Fisher could see the muscles of Marak’s arms bulging from tenseness. Lord Marak’s face was rigid with determination and his eyes had the icy reflection of death in them. Fisher held his tongue as the young Lord of Fardale straightened and began pacing again.

  “Lord Ridak has drawn his line,” Lord Marak fin
ally uttered, “and I intend to cross it. You are going to witness something that hasn’t occurred in Khadora in hundreds of years, Fisher. You are going to witness the birth of a new clan, the Torak Clan.”

  Fisher smiled broadly. “Your choice of names is most prophetically wise, Lord Marak. Not many would recognize the term from the old tongue, but I am sure you know its meaning.”

  “Torak means, 'born warrior',” nodded Lord Marak. “My mother asked me to use it.”

  “It is also the name given by the Chula to the one who will reclaim their honor,” remarked Fisher. “I would like to meet your mother some time.”

  “Perhaps that would be a good idea,” puzzled Lord Marak. “It surprised me that she was even familiar with the old tongue.”

  “What are the colors of the Torak Clan?” quizzed Fisher. “Something appropriate, I hope.”

  “I don’t know about appropriate,” acknowledged Lord Marak, “but it will be practical. The colors will be black and silver and the headbands and waistbands will be reversible to present a solid black uniform.”

  “Practical, indeed,” smiled Fisher. “Are your plans for the Ragatha invasion complete?”

  “As complete as they can be,” Lord Marak informed his spy. “My men are already in position for Lord Zawbry’s attack. My best guess based on your information places the attack either this afternoon or tomorrow at the latest. If he doesn’t attack by tomorrow, I will start to get worried that we have misread him.”

  “Do you want me to probe his estate?” offered Fisher. “I may be able to report on his readiness.”

  “No,” decided Lord Marak. “As poor as the odds are against us, my larger fear is Lord Ridak. I would like you to find out what the Situ are up to. I also want to know about Rybak if you can manage it without undue risk. Find out if he is alive and where he is being kept. I should never have allowed him to be the one to go to Lituk Valley. I do not want to create a young widow out of Elsa.”

  “Cortain Rybak is recently married?” questioned Fisher. “Why would he risk such a trip under those circumstances?”

  “The fool thinks he owes something to me,” snapped Lord Marak. Shaking his head, Lord Marak slumped into his chair. “That is hardly fair of me,” he relented. “Rybak was sent here as a spy by Lord Marshal Grefon. He revealed himself to me and asked for my forgiveness. I freely gave it because Rybak is a good officer. He has matured greatly since coming to Fardale and getting away from Lord Marshal Grefon. He insisted on volunteering because he wanted to make amends for his spying. I fought his selection, at first, but his new wife, Elsa, pleaded with me and I gave in. She is a very convincing woman. Kasa has taken her on as an assistant and says that she learns quickly. I wonder how enthusiastic she will be when she learns her husband is dead?”

  “He is not dead as far as we know,” corrected Fisher. “I will leave immediately for Lituk Valley. If I can . . . “

  “Fisher,” Lord Marak interrupted, “I can not ask you to do something so foolish. Just find out where he is being held. I will deal with it in my own way. I need your services too much to endanger you. I certainly do not want to tell Kasa that you are dead, as well.”

  “Kasa?” queried Fisher. “Why would Kasa care if I died?”

  “And you pride yourself on gleaning information from the smallest clue?” laughed Lord Marak. “I should have your eyes checked out before I send you out on a mission again.”

  “I never thought . . . I mean, she never . . . “ stumbled Fisher.

  “Why don’t you visit with her before you leave?” suggested Lord Marak.

  The door burst open and Marshal Yenga stormed in. “Marshal Tingo has started his attack!” exclaimed the Fardale Marshal as he rushed over to the wall map of Fardale and the surrounding countryside.

  The Sunnu Priest rose and exited the room without anyone noticing while Marshal Yenga and Lord Marak hovered in front of the map. “They have placed themselves right where we predicted,” Marshal Yenga declared. “Rybak’s men are holding them off with arrow volleys like we planned and the Ragatha are not pressing forward. I think it is going to work.”

  “It will work,” insisted Lord Marak. “Inform Glendale and Watula Valley that it is time for them to get into position. Send Squad Leader Botal to me as soon as he is available.”

  “As you command, My Lord,” saluted Marshal Yenga. “It will be a long night.”

  Lord Marak had time to change into his blacksuit before Squad Leader Botal showed up. “I understand the attack has begun,” greeted the Squad Leader.

  “Indeed, it has,” affirmed Lord Marak. “I just wanted to verify that the two men I requested will be available for me tonight.”

  “They have already been taken off duty, My Lord,” replied Squad Leader Botal. “They will be fully rested when the time comes.”

  “Excellent,” smiled Lord Marak. “You should do the same with the rest of your Squad. There will be little time for rest in between the engagement with Lord Zawbry and the one with Lord Sevrin. Only the Litari and Sorgan Clans will be fully rested. Have the two men wake me when it is time to go.”

  Squad Leader Botal saluted and retreated from Lord Marak’s suite. Knowing that Lord Zawbry’s attack was really a feint had helped a great deal. A single Corte was currently holding back the Ragatha Army from Woodville while the rest of Fardale’s Army rested nearby. The Litari and Sorgan Armies were already on their way to get set up for Lord Sevrin’s attack tomorrow morning. Each field unit had an Air Mage attached to it for communications and Marshal Yenga was able to direct his men from the Meeting Chamber in the mansion. Lord Marak knew the real business of war would not begin until the sun overhead was a distant memory.

  Lord Marak slept fitfully, dreaming of Cortain Rybak being tortured at the hands of Lord Marshal Grefon while Lord Ridak stood by laughing. Lord Marak and Elsa were tied up and were being forced to watch the barbaric display. Cortain Rybak kept his lips visibly sealed and Lord Marak admired the man’s resolve. Marak worked feverishly at the binds that held him, twisting and turning to undo the tight knots. Finally, he got his hands free just in time to see the Situ soldier plunge his sword into Marak’s side. The searing pain forced Lord Marak to sit up and open his eyes. The two blacksuited soldiers of Botal’s Squad stood with their backs against the wall and uncertainty in their eyes.

  Lord Marak shook the dream from his mind and smiled at the two men. “You must learn a gentler way of waking up your Lord,” he chuckled. “Is it time?”

  The two soldiers, Halman and Gunta, nodded. “It should take us four hours to get into position,” Halman noted.

  “And the fourth member of our team?” Lord Marak asked.

  “She is waiting outside,” offered Gunta. “Iscala appears eager to get going in case something goes wrong.”

  “She has a good head on her shoulders,” indicated Lord Marak. “Gunta, she will be your personal responsibility tonight. I do not want anyone or anything to get near her. She is not a combat trained soldier and you must never forget that. Be her shadow and kill anyone who even looks at her. Halman, you and I will take care of the sentries. Let’s get going before the sun decides to come up early.”

  When Lord Marak stepped out into the night air he inhaled deeply. There was no sweet smell of Lituk blossoms, only the fragrance of the earth and nature around him. Another pair of Botal’s men were outside with six horses ready for the journey and Lord Marak gave the order to mount up. Halman led the group at a steady pace as they headed for the Litari border. The group had met previously on three different occasions and had discussed the penetration planned for this evening. It was decided to slip into the Ragatha camp from behind, rather than try a direct approach.

  Lord Marak knew that by the time he reached the penetration point, Lord Zawbry’s camp would be entirely surrounded by Fardale soldiers, but not close enough to disturb the sentries. Lord Zawbry would have to fight his way to the mansion in Woodville if he decided to go home in the middle of the night. Lord
Marak knew that was not going to happen.

  It was a long, quiet ride as the six horses made their way through the Litari countryside and entered the Ragatha estate somewhere between Lord Zawbry's camp and the settlement of Woodville. When they reached the line of Fardale soldiers blocking Lord Zawbry’s retreat path, they dismounted and gave care of their horses to the two soldiers who would not be going any further.

  Lord Marak surveyed his small team and met each of their gazes before turning and leading the way through the Fardale men and into the woods. Halman moved up to walk directly behind Lord Marak while Gunta held the rear, directly behind the blacksuited Iscala.

  Marshal Yenga placed his men far enough away from Lord Zawbry’s sentries that no one would know they were there. As they approached the camp’s perimeter, Lord Marak held up his hand and Iscala and her shadow stopped walking. Halman and Lord Marak continued forward and dropped into a crouch to observe the edge of the camp. As was hoped, the sentries on this side of the camp were careless. One of them was leaning against a tree whittling a piece of wood while the other was smoking a pipe and spending more time gazing toward the camp than the woods he was supposed to be watching.

  Lord Marak knew that once Khadora got used to the idea of night attacks, sentries would no longer be this lax. The men probably thought the worst thing they would see would be an animal. They were wrong, dead wrong.

  Lord Marak took a few moments to survey the camp. Lord Zawbry’s huge and gaudy tent was easy to spot. Coming from the rear had given Lord Marak an additional advantage. Lord Zawbry had decided to pitch his tent as far away from the front as possible, instead of in the center of the camp.

  Lord Marak signaled Halman to take the whittler while he moved toward the pipe smoker. Halman and Gunta were men from Marak’s unit when he was a Squad Leader and he had worked with them before. It was the reason he had chosen them. That prior training was needed for this penetration. No spoken commands could be issued and the blacksuited invaders had to rely on silent hand signals.