Lord Marak nodded and the three warriors streamed out of the doorway and headed for Lord Marshal Grefon’s suite. As they slipped inside, they froze. The door to the sleeping chamber was open and someone was talking to Grefon. Lord Marak quickly carried Rybak into Grefon’s study and laid him on the couch. Gunta and Halman followed and eased the door closed except for a small crack to look out.
Chapter 23
Going Home
“Take Rybak down to the river,” whispered Lord Marak. “If I’m not there in three minutes, cut the ropes and get out of here.”
“What are you planning?” retorted Gunta. “There is no reason for you to stay.”
“There is one reason,” insisted Lord Marak. “Lord Marshal Grefon has to know who freed Rybak. Get going now.”
Gunta frowned, but he helped Halman get Cortain Rybak off the couch and to the window. Lord Marak kept watch at the door to Lord Marshal Grefon’s sitting room as the other two warriors got Rybak situated so he could be lowered to the ground. Gunta climbed out the window as Lord Marak turned over his clothing bands to show silver once again. Lord Marshal Grefon emerged from his sleeping chambers with the Seneschal. The Seneschal left the suite and Grefon headed for the study.
“Get him out now!” Lord Marak softly exclaimed. “You have only seconds.”
Lord Marak drew his sinuous sword and retreated to the dark corner as Halman let go of the window and dropped to the ground. The door opened and Lord Marshal Grefon entered carrying a candle.
“Too loud a noise has been known to be fatal,” growled Lord Marak. “Close the door and put the candle on the desk.”
Lord Marshal Grefon closed the door quietly and placed the candle on the desk before turning to face Lord Marak. “I guess I should have been expecting you,” scowled Lord Marshal Grefon. “In any event, I’m glad you decided to stay rather than abort your mission. I have a room reserved for you.”
“It wouldn’t happen to be a room next to Cortain Rybak, would it?” asked Lord Marak. “Sit down. There are a few things I would like to make clear to you.”
“You always were overconfident,” sneered Lord Marshal Grefon as he sat on the couch. “You will have the rest of your life to talk with me. Why rush it?”
“I know you gave the Ragatha Clan permission to attack Fardale,” spat Lord Marak. “That was a major mistake on your part. Now Fardale will never be yours.”
“You are a fool, Marak,” laughed Lord Marshal Grefon. “We will have Fardale back in a week. We promised them we would not to come to your aid in Fardale. We never promised to let the Ragatha scum keep it. We will kick them out of there quicker than they kicked you out and we will have their estates, as well.”
“Lord Ridak will not be pleased with his Lord Marshal when he finds out how poorly your plans have worked,” smiled Lord Marak. “Fardale is now the estate of the Torak Clan led by myself. I would suggest that Lord Ridak call upon the Lords Council if he wishes to try to get it back.”
Lord Marshal Grefon finally seemed to notice the uniform Lord Marak was wearing and he stared at it as he answered. “You can’t be serious. Whether we go to the Lords Council or just assemble our armies against you, you will lose, either way. What did you promise the Ragatha Clan to keep them from attacking you?”
“I should kill you for turning your dog, Koors, loose on Rybak,” growled Lord Marak, “but I want you alive to suffer at Lord Ridak’s hands for your bungling.”
Lord Marak raised his sword and, as Lord Marshal Grefon cringed, hit him over the head with the hilt. He quickly sheathed his sword and lowered himself out the window. The estate grounds still appeared to be quiet and Lord Marak realized that the alarm was not sounded. The Seneschal must have heard Koors, but did not know where the sound had come from. He probably alerted Lord Marshal Grefon and left the decision about what to do up to him.
Lord Marak dashed across the open field and into the orchards. Looking around for the patrol, he dashed through the orchard to the path to the river. When he reached the river he ran along the bank until he came to the swimming area where the troops maintained a raft for recreation. He leaped onto the raft as Gunta swung his sword, cutting the ropes that held it in position. The momentum of Lord Marak’s jump pushed the raft towards the center of the river where the current started it moving downstream.
“Cortain Rybak does not look good,” remarked Halman. “He needs a healer badly.”
The closest healer other than the one at Lituk Valley was in River’s Bend or Forest Deep and Lord Marak could not go to either place. “He will need more than a healer if we don’t get out of here quickly,” sighed Lord Marak. “Do you think he can survive the ride back?”
“I don’t know,” admitted Halman. “I’m not a healer. I would feel better if he was treated before we returned.”
Lord Marak gazed at the riverbank as they went floating by. He knew Rybak would be hurt, but he did not anticipate that Koors would be allowed near him. Rybak must have suffered greatly at the hands of his old Cortain.
“All right, Halman,” decided Lord Marak. “When we get to the cave you will see that Rybak is comfortable. Gunta, you will leave for Fardale. Lord Marshal Yenga will be heading this way with his Army. Tell him to turn back to Fardale. Tell him that we were not captured. I will try to find a healer somewhere and bring him back to the cave. They will notice the raft missing in the morning and may search along the river for a while, so keep inside the cave at all times.”
“Lord Marshal Yenga will not be happy that we are not with you,” frowned Gunta.
“Lord Marshal Yenga is not making the decisions here,” reminded Lord Marak. “He will follow my orders, just as you will.”
Gunta saw the area where the cave was and used a plank to steer the raft closer to shore. As the raft bumped the shoreline, Lord Marak jumped off and grabbed the short rope, holding the raft while the others got off. Gunta helped Halman get Rybak into the cave and Lord Marak shoved the raft back into the river. Gunta emerged from the cave with two horses and handed one to Lord Marak.
“Where will you find a healer?” asked Gunta.
“There is only one place that I can think of,” stated Lord Marak. “There are some Chula near Forest Deep. I will ask them for help.”
“But they are not Kywara,” warned Gunta. “They do not know of Lord Marak of Fardale. They will see you as another flatlander invading their homeland.”
“You may be right, Gunta,” agreed Lord Marak, “but it is the only chance that Rybak has and I owe him whatever help I can find. Do not try to search for me among the Chula. If I do not return, Halman will do what he can for Rybak. You stay with Lord Marshal Yenga. Remember to stay off the normal trail to Fardale. The Situ will be heading that way looking for us.”
Gunta nodded and rode off into the darkness. Lord Marak went into the cave and checked on Rybak before melding into the still night.
* * *
Lord Marshal Grefon felt the lump on his head and cursed. He sat up on the couch and shook his head to clear it. Remembering what had happened, he grabbed the sword he had come into the study to get and ran towards the dungeon stairs. He threw open the door and ran down the stairs and stopped when he saw the carnage which used to be Cortain Koors. He ran back up the stairs shouting so loudly that he was heard outside. One of the soldiers from the patrol met him as he opened the front door of the mansion.
“Rybak has escaped,” he ordered. “Marak is with him. Rouse the troops and get a Corte out on the road to Fardale immediately. I want them both and I want them alive. Marak, at least. I don’t care if Rybak is dead or alive.”
The soldier turned and ran towards the barracks as Lord Ridak appeared at the front door of the mansion. “What is going on?” he demanded. “What was that about Rybak and Marak?”
Lord Marshal Grefon turned and stared at the Lord of the Situ. “Marak came to rescue Rybak,” explained Lord Marshal Grefon. “Let us go into my study and I will explain it to you.”
&n
bsp; Lord Ridak followed his Lord Marshal and sat on the couch in Grefon’s study. The Lord Marshal looked at the still burning candle and tried to estimate how much time had expired since he had seen Marak.
“The Seneschal woke me with a report of a shout,” began Lord Marshal Grefon. “I came to my study to get my sword and was surprised by Marak. He must have been hiding in there waiting for me.”
“So, he managed to survive the attack of the Ragatha Clan,” surmised Lord Ridak. “Small matter. He can never get it back again.”
“That is not the picture he paints,” corrected Lord Marshal Grefon. “He told me that Fardale is no longer a Situ estate. He now calls himself Lord Marak of the Torak Clan and is claiming Fardale for himself.”
“Impossible,” cried Lord Ridak. “He is just an impudent fool. There is no way he could hope to hold off the Ragatha Clan. He is probably lucky to have escaped with his life.”
“Perhaps you are right,” mused Lord Marshal Grefon, “but I have never known Marak to lie. There is a chance he managed to talk the Ragatha Clan into not attacking. Maybe he offered them part of Fardale to leave him alone. Maybe he convinced them that they would be better off with him as a neighbor than the Situ Clan.”
“It could be worse than that,” postulated Lord Ridak. “He may have offered to become an estate of the Ragatha in order to remain Lord of Fardale. That is something Lord Sevrin might buy. He gains Fardale without a fight and Marak keeps his position.”
“Possibly,” admitted Lord Marshal Grefon. “He made some comment about you calling on the Lords Council to get Fardale back from him.”
“Perhaps after his dealings with the Sorgans,” Lord Ridak observed, “our Marak thinks the Lords Council is easy to fool. He could not be more mistaken. If he still controls Fardale and has tried to put up a banner other than the Situ banner, he has just offered to give Fardale back to us. It will actually be easier than sending our troops. I want a messenger sent to the capital immediately. We will take Marak’s advice and ask for a mediator from the Lords Council.”
“You should let me send scouts first to make sure that what Marak has said is true,” protested Lord Marshal Grefon.
“Every time I have taken your advice regarding Marak,” sneered Lord Ridak, “things have gotten worse. I sometimes think I would have been better off sending you to Fardale and making Marak my Lord Marshal. Why didn’t you kill him while he was here?”
Lord Marshal Grefon broke eye contact with Lord Ridak and stared at his bookshelf. “He attacked me when I wasn’t looking,” fabricated Lord Marshal Grefon. “I told you I was coming in here to get my sword and he was already here waiting for me. He hit me over the head with something.”
“I see,” ridiculed Lord Ridak. “He surprised you and knocked you out and then he had a talk with you? After your little chat he went downstairs and freed Rybak. How did he manage to get past the jailer?”
Lord Marshal Grefon burned with shame and hatred for Marak. “He killed both the jailer and Koors,” he spat. “Koors was cut in two. I’m not sure how the jailer died, but Marak stripped his uniform off, probably to cover Rybak.”
“Let me see if I have this right,” scowled Lord Ridak. “One lone man waltzes onto my estate and gains entry to the Lord Marshal’s study. He knocks the Lord Marshal unconscious and then goes downstairs and kills two men. He takes a nearly dead captive, dresses him and walks off into the night and we can’t find him. Is that the story I am to believe?”
Lord Marshal Grefon rose and walked to the door. “I will summon a messenger for you, Lord Ridak.”
“Not quite so fast, Lord Marshal,” called Lord Ridak. “I want every man who was on duty last night punished. I will not have an estate that is open for any person off the road to enter whenever he sees fit. The punishment should be harsh. As for yourself, you will no longer issue orders on this estate without my approval. You have bungled our dealings with Marak at every turn. I can not afford any more of your wondrous plans. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, My Lord,” saluted Lord Marshal Grefon. He waited to see if the tirade would continue and when Lord Ridak rose and stormed out, Grefon put his fist through the wall. Oh, how he wished it was Lord Ridak’s suite that Marak had entered. Nothing would give Grefon more pleasure right now than to cut off Marak’s head right after the young Lord got done with humiliating Lord Ridak.
* * *
Cortain Rybak woke up and winced as he tried to move. Halman rushed over and forced the wounded man to lie back down. “Halman?” Rybak wheezed. “Where am I?”
“You are safe, Cortain,” soothed Halman. “You are in a cave north of Lituk Valley. Lord Marak has gone for a healer. You must rest until he returns.”
“Lord Marak was here?” couched Cortain Rybak. “Tell me what happened.”
“If you promise not to try to get up,” admonished Halman. “Lord Marak, Gunta and myself broke into the mansion and pulled you out. There is not much to tell except you will be glad to know that Koors will not bother you ever again. Lord Marak cut him in two. Gunta has gone to stop Lord Marshal Yenga from attacking Lituk Valley. He was going to do so if we did not return by a certain time.”
“Lord Marshal Yenga?” quizzed Cortain Rybak. “What happened with the Ragatha attack?”
It suddenly dawned on Halman that Rybak knew nothing of the events of the last few days. “We defeated the Ragatha Clan,” smiled Halman. “They have sworn allegiance to Lord Marak and given up Woodville. Lord Marak has declared his independence from the Situ Clan. We are now members of the Torak Clan. How do you like our new uniforms? Black and silver.”
“It is a fine uniform,” coughed Cortain Rybak. “Why did Lord Marak come for me? He is not the debtor in our relationship. I already owe him more than I can repay. Why would he risk his life for me?”
“Because he cares for his people,” smiled Halman. “Because he cares for you. Be true to him, Cortain, and he will never desert you. He does not seek repayment from you. He only asks for your loyalty and you have shown him yours.”
Cortain Rybak turned away from Halman and cried.
* * *
Lord Marak rode hard into the night. He had escorted a caravan to Forest Deep once and remembered the terrain fairly well, but he had never ventured near the Chula there. He wondered whether the Chula would even give him a chance to talk or would they just strike him down when he entered their territory? He berated himself for his negative thoughts and cast them aside. Dwelling on death often stopped one from acting when action was necessary. If death came, it would come without being asked for.
Lord Marak was not entirely sure where he was going. The only reference he had was a conversation several years ago. One of the Forest Deep soldiers was telling tales about the Chula and had gestured towards the North when he spoke. Lord Marak veered off the road to Forest Deep and headed for the forest where the Situ did not venture. He did not know where to look for the Chula, but he knew they would notice him if he made enough noise.
Lord Marak slowed when he entered the dense forest. There were no real paths here, only game trails. The trees were old and mature and the forest was very black. He had to slow to a walk and the horse had trouble finding a way deeper into the woods. Lord Marak heard a rustle off to his left and felt his muscles involuntarily tense. He had the strange sensation of someone watching him, so he stopped dead still.
“I am Marak, Lord of the Torak, friend of the Kywara,” he called loudly. “I seek a healer and come in peace. Please hear my plea.”
“Since when is a flatlander a friend of the Chula?” asked a voice behind him.
Lord Marak nearly jumped off his horse with the sound a voice so close to him. He held his nervousness in check as he slowly swiveled in his saddle and saw a Chula warrior standing behind him.
“Since I have given my word and honor to the Kywara,” answered Lord Marak. “I beg forgiveness for my trespass, but I have great need of a healer. I have a friend who is near death.”
“Why do you come to the Zatong instead of your flatlander brothers?” asked the barbarian. “Forest Deep has a healer to tend to your friend.”
“The Situ are my enemies,” declared Lord Marak. “Their medicine would mean death for my friend and myself.”
“You fear the Situ more than the Zatong?” chuckled the naked warrior.
“I neither fear nor respect the Situ,” corrected Lord Marak. “I respect the Chula and do not wish to fear them. Have you a healer who can help?”
“Remove yourself from your horse,” ordered the barbarian. “You will follow me. Do not touch your weapons and do not stray from the path or you will die. You will be watched by many.”
Lord Marak nodded and followed the Zatong warrior through the woods. He felt as if the path they took was intentionally confusing and many times he felt like he was heading back the way they had come, but he kept his observations to himself. Half an hour later, he was lead into a Chula village similar to the Kywara village near Fardale, but much larger. The people of the village looked just like the Kywara and their movements appeared to be the same. Even the placement of the Leader’s hut was similar.
A tall, dark, muscular Chula waited in front of the Leader’s hut. Lord Marak’s horse was taken from him and he walked towards the Leader.
“Thank you for allowing me to speak,” greeted Lord Marak.
“Turn around,” ordered the Leader.
Lord Marak turned his back on the Zatong Leader and felt his sword being taken.
“You may face me now,” stated the Leader. “This is the Sword of Torak. Where have you gotten this?”
“It was a gift from Tmundo, Leader of the Kywara,” answered Lord Marak as he turned to see the Leader holding his sword.
“The Sword of Torak is not a gift,” declared the Zatong Leader. “It is a pronouncement. You have said that you are the Lord of the Torak. Explain what you mean.”
Young Lord of Khadora Page 29