Lord Marak hefted the wicked-looking sword and admired the craftsmanship. “You honor me with your gift, Leader of the Kywara,” accepted Lord Marak. “Why do I get the feeling that there is more to the meaning of Torak than you are telling me?”
“When you visit next,” offered Tmundo, “I will explain the significance of Torak to you. Until then, trust in your instincts. You will know what to do and when to do it.”
“I wish I had the confidence in me that others seem to have,” sighed Lord Marak. “All I can see are the problems which I have not solved. One of my Cortains lies in Lituk Valley while I celebrate my victories.”
“Why do you tell me of this?” quizzed Tmundo. “You have the skills to retrieve him. Why do you hesitate?”
“I’m not sure,” admitted Lord Marak. “It feels like I would be attacking my own home and I do not have provocation for an attack.”
“You are still playing by the flatlanders' rules,” sighed Tmundo. “Is it not provocation enough when they enslave other people? Do they have a right to seize your courier and torture him? Do they not wish you dead? Stop playing by their rules, young Marak. They are wrong and you are right. Go, get what is yours and teach them not to take your things again. Unless you are strong and firm, the flatlanders will keeping taking what is yours. This is the way the Kywara live and it is the reason we have survived.”
“If I ignore the flatlander rules,” protested Lord Marak, “they will unite against me.”
“They will do so anyway,” explained Tmundo. “They will not accept your reforms without being forced to. Limit your enemies by playing their game for a while, but discard the rules with selected opponents. Make no mistake about my advice, young Marak. Lord Ridak is your opponent. One of you will live and the other will die. Which role do you wish to fulfill?”
“Why do the Kywara accept me?” asked Lord Marak. “You do not deal with flatlanders and yet you bring me gifts and advice. Why do you see me as being different from the others?”
Tmundo stared at the floor as if in a trance for a few moments before answering. “You are Torak,” stated Tmundo. “Until you understand that, there is little I can explain. You will bring honor to the flatlanders and the Chula need that honor to survive. No Chula will stand against you as long as you remain faithful to the honor of Torak. There is nothing more I can explain at the moment.”
Lord Marak heard a sound outside in the hall and stuck his head out to investigate. When he turned back to his room, Tmundo was gone. He picked up the Sword of Torak and placed it on his stand before crawling into bed.
The next day Lord Marak hosted a reception and asked the Marshals and Lords of the Sorgan Clan and the Litari Clan to attend. At the reception Lord Marak unveiled the new uniform of the Torak Clan, a completely black outfit with a silver headband, waistband and wrist bands. The waistband sported a silver circle with the Sword of Torak embroidered within it.
“The silver is a nice touch,” chuckled Lord Marshal Orteka. “The first time I saw you I would have appreciated something to break up all that black. I wasn’t sure if you were human or if the fog had disturbed my vision.”
Lord Quavry of Watula Valley mumbled something under his breath and Lord Marak noted that the overweight Sorgan Lord did not fit in well with the rest of the people assembled. Lord Burdine had gotten over his early queasiness about serving under Lord Marak and Lord Sevrin actually seemed eager to get the reforms underway. Lord Quavry, alone, still balked at changing his ways. Lord Marak noted to keep a close eye on his Sorgan Lord. Perhaps he would have time to speak with Marshal Patoga before the Sorgans left the reception. Marshal Patoga wholeheartedly accepted Lord Marak’s reforms and Lord Marshal Yenga commented on the blossoming character of his old Lectain Patoga.
Lord Burdine and Lord Sevrin actually got along well. Their Clans had been bitter enemies ever since Woodville was founded. Lord Marak wondered how things would have worked out if the two of them had sat down and talked when the hostilities first erupted. He suspected that Lord Zawbry decided to use his sword instead of his mouth and had managed to sabotage any chance of a peaceful agreement. That was one Ragatha clansman whom Lord Marak would not miss.
Seneschal Pito entered the reception flourishing a long, black cape with a silver border and sporting a large, silver circle with the Sword of Torak in it on the back. To a round of applause and murmurs of appreciation, Seneschal Pito attached the cape to Lord Marak’s uniform. Two bearers behind the Seneschal carried a new black sheath and the Sword of Torak. Lord Marak hefted the Sword of Torak and held it high as the room buzzed with exclamations of appreciation and awe.
“This is the Sword of Torak,” Lord Marak proclaimed. “It is the symbol of the Torak Clan. With it I will restore honor and freedom to Khadora.”
The room was silent and Lord Marak flushed trying to figure out where his words had come from. He did not intend to make a speech about the Sword of Torak. He merely planned to show it to explain the new Clan symbol, but the words just flowed out of his mouth.
Suddenly, Lord Marshal Yenga drew his sword and raised it high. “To Lord Marak, Lord of the Torak Clan!” he exclaimed. “To the Sword of Torak and freedom and honor!”
They broke into a spontaneous salute to Lord Marak as everyone who had a sword raised it in a salute. Those who did not have a sword raised their hands while uttering the words. Only Lord Quavry appeared indifferent to the salute.
Lord Marak left the reception early and corralled Lord Marshal Yenga outside the mansion. “I am going to Lituk Valley tonight,” Lord Marak declared. “Cortain Rybak has been held long enough.”
Rather than the argument Lord Marak expected, Lord Marshal Yenga simply nodded. “Take Gunta and Halman with you,” he insisted. “I have placed scouts in the hills. Take their horses when you get there. You can retrieve yours on the way back.”
“You’ve kept up the bandits?” chuckled Lord Marak.
“Do you know of a better way to catch Situ spies?” laughed Lord Marshal Yenga. “I will keep everyone here entertained. If you are not back in two days, I will lead all of the armies who owe allegiance to you into Lituk Valley.”
“Two days is a rather narrow corridor,” protested Lord Marak.
“I think it is too long for you to be missing,” insisted Lord Marshal Yenga. “I know better than to try to stop you, but I will not be remiss by waiting too long. If you are a little bit late in getting back, you will not have trouble finding four thousand men heading toward Lituk Valley. You can alter my orders then.”
“Two days,” promised Lord Marak, “but the horses will be worthless after the trip.”
“Horses we can spare,” remarked Lord Marshal Yenga, “the Lord of the Torak Clan, we can not. Ride safely and return swiftly.” He snapped his fingers and Gunta and Halman emerged from the shadows. They were already outfitted in the new uniforms of the Torak Clan and were ready to ride.”
“How did you know?” demanded Lord Marak.
“It is my duty to anticipate the moves of others before they occur,” smiled Lord Marshal Yenga. “I had hoped you would allow me to send Gunta and Halman alone, but I was prepared for your decision to go with them.”
Lord Marak smiled and nodded his appreciation as the three black clad warriors headed for the stables. Three horses stood ready and the warriors mounted and galloped to the East. They rode long into the night before Gunta called a halt.
“We are in the area of the bandits,” Gunta explained. “We do not want to be skewered by our own men.”
Gunta dismounted and led his weary horse forward. Lord Marak and Halman dismounted and followed Gunta’s lead. Five minutes into their walk, an arrow streaked downward and stuck in the ground in front of Gunta.
“You are surrounded,” shouted an unseen voice. “Identify yourselves or prepare to die.”
“I am Gunta Torak,” shouted Gunta. “I accompany Lord Marak. We have need of three fresh horses.”
Lord Marak waited tensely as nobody a
nswered. Looking from Gunta to Halman, he filled both hands with Omunga Stars and prepared to move into the darkness. Gunta shook his head and Lord Marak halted. Suddenly, Lord Marak heard the sounds of horses approaching and whirled to see one of his men leading three horses along the path they had just traversed.
“Sorry, Lord Marak,” the bandit apologized. “Lord Marshal Yenga said some riders would be coming tonight, but we didn’t recognize the new uniforms.”
“I am glad you were cautious enough to check before you punctured us with arrows,” responded Lord Marak. “We should be coming back tomorrow or the next day. Is there some signal we can use to avoid a mistake?”
“Have you ever heard a marsh owl?” asked the bandit.
Lord Marak nodded and imitated the call. “Excellent,” remarked the bandit. “Give that call on your way back. Start it about a half hour east of here. We do not stay in the same place for obvious reasons. We will hear it and have your refreshed mounts ready.”
“We will need four mounts upon our return,” instructed Lord Marak optimistically.
The bandit nodded as the three warriors transferred their gear to the new mounts and resumed their journey eastward. Gunta kept up a hectic pace, but the sky began to pale before they reached Lituk Valley. Lord Marak called a halt and dismounted.
“We will not have enough time to accomplish our goal tonight,” declared Lord Marak. “Let’s rest the animals and decide on a plan of attack.”
“If we could leave the horses here,” speculated Halman, “we would have fresher mounts tomorrow night when we are being chased. Do you think we could steal horses out of their stable? We could abandon them here and take these mounts back.”
“That is not a bad idea,” commented Lord Marak, “but it increases our exposure. Getting Rybak out will be tricky enough without trying to steal horses.”
“Plus,” added Gunta, “if we fail to get horses, it will be a long walk back to here. They will probably be pursuing us when we escape.”
“If they know where to look for us,” smiled Lord Marak.
“If they know it was us,” figured Halman, “they will head straight this way. They will probably get here before us if we don’t have horses.”
“But if they don’t know it was us,” commented Gunta, “they will search in every direction for Rybak.”
“I am going to make sure that Lord Marshal Grefon knows who freed Cortain Rybak,” laughed Lord Marak. “We are heading north towards River’s Bend. We can travel slowly as long as we keep off the roads. We are going to need rest before dark, but we will not have a full day’s journey ahead of us.”
Gunta and Halman exchanged puzzled looks, but they shrugged and followed Lord Marak. It took the entire morning to find the exact spot Lord Marak was searching for, but once they saw it, Gunta and Halman smiled.
They were at a cave alongside the river less than an hour's ride north of Lituk Valley. Marak had brought his Squad here to rest during one of their survival training outings. They were coming back from a trip to the swamps downstream and the evening turned into a small festival of sorts with a campfire at the mouth of the cave and several of the soldiers playing flutes while the others sang. Lord Marak’s thoughts drifted back to those carefree days with a warmness reserved for memories.
The three warriors brought their horses into the cave and prepared for sleep. The cave was not near the road and there was little chance of anyone stumbling along and finding them here. As soon as nightfall arrived, the three warriors left the cave and started walking towards Lituk Valley. They kept to the woods and proceeded quietly through the forest as they turned their silver headbands, wristbands and waistband inside out to hide the silver.
As they neared the estate, Lord Marak halted frequently and listened for signs of patrols. Lord Marshal Grefon was not big on nighttime patrols during times of peace and Lord Marak noted that he hadn’t changed his procedures. They spotted only one patrol although Lord Marak realized there would be another on the other side of the estate. The patrol was easy to get around and soon the three warriors were in the heart of the orchards. Here the risky part of their mission would begin.
The layout of Lord Ridak’s estate placed the barracks towards the front of the property. That necessitated an entry from the rear of the mansion. Unfortunately, that path would mean crossing the barren fields which were not yet producing lituks. Lord Marak did not look forward to the long exposure necessary to cross the open terrain and he certainly would not attempt it until later in the night. Too many soldiers and servants would have a clear view of the open fields and the warriors would have to wait until they turned in for the night.
The three warriors stretched out prone under the lituk trees, each facing a different direction, and waited for the estate to go to sleep. They saw the patrol go by several times, but the Situ soldiers never entered the orchards.
Finally, when the estate was quiet, Lord Marak tapped his two team members and pointed towards the mansion. Gunta rose and ran quietly to the side of the mansion and threw himself into the darkness alongside it. Halman rose next and duplicated the short run. By the time Lord Marak made it to the building, Gunta had already crawled to the corner of the mansion and was peering around the corner. Lord Marak followed Halman to the corner of the building.
Attacking Lituk Valley had one distinctive benefit. Lord Marak knew the grounds and he knew where the kitchen was. He also knew the kitchen should be empty. He eased up alongside Gunta and saw why the warrior had not pressed on further. The second patrol was slacking off. Unfortunately, they were exercising their laxness behind the mansion, right where Lord Marak did not want them. Lord Marak tried to remember what little he knew about the layout of the interior of the mansion and came up with disturbing answers. The only window on this side of the mansion that he could be sure of was Lord Marshal Grefon’s suite.
With time running out and no sign of the second patrol suddenly gaining any initiative to do their duty properly, Lord Marak decided to enter the mansion through Lord Marshal Grefon’s sitting room. After relaying his decision to Gunta and Halman, Lord Marak headed back along the side of the building to the proper window. Lord Marak reached up and tested the shutters and found them unlocked. He eased them open and pulled himself up and into the Lord Marshal’s sitting room. Silently he padded his way across the room to the door to the sleeping chamber and waited.
Halman pulled himself in next and immediately moved to the door to the hallway. Gunta entered and stood looking at the other two for any signs of a problem. The door to Grefon’s study stood open and the room was obviously unoccupied. Halman eased open the door to the hallway and peered out. He nodded vigorously and slipped out the door. Gunta followed close behind and Lord Marak waited until both of them had left the room before he abandoned his post by Grefon’s sleeping chamber.
The door to downstairs was under the grand staircase leading upstairs and Lord Marak found his two compatriots waiting for him when he arrived.
“One of you should remain here,” whispered Lord Marak. “Keep an eye out for anyone who might get in the way when we are leaving. Do not kill unless you have to.”
Gunta eased open the door to the lower level and slipped through it to the stairs leading down. Lord Marak followed him and Halman stepped inside, but kept the door cracked so he could see out. Gunta stepped slowly and cautiously as he moved down the stairs. He stopped at the bottom and peeked around the corner and held up two fingers. Lord Marak thought quickly and tapped Gunta on the shoulder. Gunta moved back and let Lord Marak assume his position.
Cortain Koors and the jailer sat at a table drinking ale and talking up a storm. The jailer was normally positioned so that he could see the captives as well as the stairway, but Koors’ massive form was blocking his view. Lord Marak touched Gunta’s pouch where he kept his Omunga Stars and then stepped down the last step to the floor of the dungeon. Quietly, and in a crouch, Lord Marak stole across the room towards the back of Cortain Koors.
The jailer must have sensed something because he suddenly leaped to his feet, but Lord Marak had already gotten close enough to accomplish his goal. He stepped up behind Koors and held a knife across his throat while he extended his sword to the jailer’s chest.
“I would prefer not to spill any blood here tonight,” growled Lord Marak, “but that decision is yours.”
Cortain Koors stiffened more at the sound of Marak’s voice than he did to the knife at his throat. The big man pushed back his chair into Lord Marak and hollered as loud as he could. Lord Marak jumped backwards to avoid the bulk of Koors and the jailer went for his sword. Koors moved surprisingly quick for a man of his build as he flourished a knife of his own. Koors and the jailer converged on Lord Marak and the Lord of the Torak Clan did not hesitate. He swung his sinuous sword at Koors and was somewhat amazed as the sword cut cleanly through the overweight man. At the same time, Gunta sent an Omunga Star sailing into the forehead of the jailer.
Lord Marak began searching the cells for Cortain Rybak while Gunta fished through the jailer’s keys. Lord Marak stopped when he found Cortain Rybak. The man was hanging from a wall with his legs and arms clasped in iron manacles. Lord Marak felt a lump rising in his throat as he observed the pitiful state his man was in. Rybak’s body was naked and covered from head to toe with welts and bruises. His eyes were swollen shut and his head hung down on his chest. Gunta quickly opened the cell while Lord Marak stripped the uniform off the dead jailer. It would be large for Rybak, but at least it would offer some covering.
“Lord Marak,” Gunta called softly, “I need help. I can’t hold him and undo the manacles at the same time.”
Lord Marak quickly finished getting the jailer’s clothes and ran to help Gunta with Cortain Rybak. He threw the clothes down and supported Rybak while Gunta unlocked the manacles. Catching Rybak in his arms, Lord Marak laid him on a bench. The two warriors hurried to get some clothing on Rybak then Lord Marak lifted him and carried him to the stairs.
Halman was nervous when Lord Marak reached the top of the stairs. “Someone heard the shouting,” he whispered. “I’m not sure who, but someone just ran past the door. I couldn’t see where he went. It looks clear now, but we had better move quickly.”
Young Lord of Khadora Page 28