“We will honor your decision whatever it is,” stated Tmundo. “We can have a messenger to the Zatong in less than a day. Tell us what you wish and we shall do whatever we can to satisfy it.”
“I don’t know what I want,” cried Glenda. “I mean, I know what I want, but I don’t think I can have it. What can you tell me of Ukaro? What is he like now?”
“He is the same Ukaro I knew many years ago,” stated Rykoma, “although since you died . . . since you were taken, he has become very bitter and intolerant of flatlanders. He is still stronger than a wasooki and twice as stubborn.”
“He was always stubborn,” laughed Glenda. “He was always strong, too. I would love to see him. I have heard that the Chula mages can make people invisible. Is it possible to do that to me so that I could see him without revealing myself?”
“No,” answered Rykoma. “We can not make people invisible. What the stories refer to is a state that a Shaman passes through during transformation. During a body transformation, the Shaman ceases to be visible for a short period. The period can be willfully extended for up to ten minutes by one who is skilled and powerful, but no Shaman has the ability to do that to someone else.”
“Thank you, Tmundo, Rykoma,” sighed Glenda. “I have taken too much of your time already. You have answered my questions.”
Tmundo reached out and gently took Glenda’s arm. “Stay with us for a while,” he proposed. “My heart breaks with the sadness in your eyes. Give us time to talk about this problem. Maybe a solution can be found which can help heal your wounds.”
“I did not tell anyone I was coming here,” advised Glenda. “They might get worried.”
“No one will miss you for a short while,” offered Rykoma.
A Chula messenger arrived in the village and came directly towards Tmundo. “Greetings, Kywara Leader,” stated the messenger.
“Greetings to you, Zatong,” returned Tmundo. “How fares your Head Shaman?”
The messenger blinked at the departure from the ritual greeting, but quickly regained his composure. “Shaman Ukaro is well, Leader Tmundo,” answered the messenger. “He sends news that Lord Marak is with the Zatong. He wishes you to inform the flatlanders so they do not worry needlessly.”
“Shaman Ukaro is a wise Shaman,” smiled Tmundo. “Rest and be cared for, Zatong. See me before you leave. I may have a return message.”
The messenger nodded and trotted off. Tmundo looked at Glenda and smiled. “Your husband is alive and well, Glenda.”
“What is Marak doing there?” worried Glenda. “I heard that he had left the estate, but I did not think he would even know how to find Ukaro.”
“I wonder if they know about each other?” posed Rykoma. “That would certainly make your decision for you, Glenda.”
Tmundo shot a look at Rykoma which caused the Shaman to silence his mouth. “It is something to consider,” Tmundo sighed. “Both of them are intelligent and if Lord Marak still wears the necklace, Ukaro will notice it.”
“Great,” cried Glenda. “Then both of them can run off to Lituk Valley and get killed.”
The messenger was back already and overheard the last statement. “Lord Marak has already been to Lituk Valley,” he declared. “He came to the Zatong for a healer for one of his men. One called Rybak.”
“Men!” cried Glenda. “You are all crazy! Must a man have a death wish to be a man?”
Rykoma shook his head, but Tmundo touched the arm of the messenger. “You have not rested long enough, Zatong. I ask you to refresh yourself longer.”
The messenger dutifully nodded and trotted off again. “Glenda, I would like to send a message back to Ukaro,” stated Tmundo. “I want to tell Ukaro that he is needed here immediately. I will ask him to come here without detour. Once he is here, I will help you to convince him not to go to Lituk Valley. It saddens my heart to see so much woe between people who belong together. If you do not let him know about you, he may still seek his vengeance. The best way to avoid that is for you to reunite with him.”
“Why would he even want me back?” sobbed Glenda. “I am not the innocent woman he married. Seeing me will only drive him mad.”
“I disagree,” interrupted Rykoma after finally figuring out what Glenda’s hesitation was all about. “You are a fool if you think anything would change Ukaro’s love for you. The last time I met him, you had been dead for thirteen years. He still would not even think of another woman. Can you honestly believe that the actions of another man would affect his love for you? I have admitted that I don’t understand women, but you, Glenda, do not understand men. The only problem you will have with Ukaro is keeping him away from you.”
“And what about your son?” asked Tmundo. “Does he not have the right to finally find his father? Can you deny Marak that pleasure when the path he takes brings him closer to death every day?”
Glenda stopped sobbing and looked up at the mention of Marak. “I told Marak to name his clan Torak,” she admitted. “Ukaro often spoke of the prophecy and wished his son would be the one. What will he think when I tell him of that?”
“He will rejoice,” smiled Tmundo. “I wondered where Marak got the name. It makes sense now. What you are unaware of is that he is the Torak. Rykoma had the vision. Your son . . . Ukaro’s son is the Torak. I have already presented the Sword of Torak to him not two nights ago.”
“You are serious?” questioned Glenda. “He is really the Torak?”
“Yes, Glenda,” declared Rykoma. “My vision was indisputable. You can not expect to hide the Torak from a Zatong Shaman. Ukaro will know soon if he does not already. Let Tmundo call for him to come here without delay. Do not live in confusion any longer. Know the truth and accept it, whatever it is.”
Glenda’s resolve strengthened and she nodded her head. “Send the message, Tmundo,” she decided. “I shall wait with you for his arrival.”
* * *
Lord Marshal Yenga turned from the bandit and called Lectain Zorkil. “I want four Cortes ready to ride in five minutes,” ordered the Lord Marshal. “I want one from each Clan. We have a Corte of Situ heading this way. I suspect they are looking for Lord Marak. I want them captured or killed, preferably captured. Do not let a single one of them escape.”
“Why one from each Clan?” asked Lectain Zorkil.
“Confusion, Lectain,” smiled Lord Marshal Yenga. “If they fear attack from one Clan, they may seek solace with another. It will help control the situation quicker.”
Lectain Zorkil saluted and turned to assemble the men. Within a few minutes he had the men mounted and heading east. He immediately issued orders for the four Cortes to split up and explained the goal of the mission. Each of the Cortains nodded his understanding and the Cortes grew distant from one another.
Lectain Zorkil stayed with the Fardale Corte who were outfitted in their new black and silver uniforms and commanded by Cortain Tagoro. Tagoro’s Corte had already served terms as bandits and knew the countryside well. He chose a spot, which afforded a long view of the trail into Fardale. It was high ground and Lectain Zorkil could clearly see the placement of the other three Cortes although they would not be visible to someone on the trail. They did not have long to wait as the green and yellow Situ Corte came cautiously into view. The Situ were not in a hurry and the men appeared to be leery of their close proximity to Fardale.
Lectain Zorkil waited until the Situ column had passed and then waved a black and silver flag in the air. Cortain Tagoro already had his Corte heading down the slope to seal off the rear of the Situ column. Lectain Zorkil waited until he saw the other three Cortes moving before he stood high in his saddle and shouted. His voice echoed and reverberated off the hills and he smiled when he saw the Situ Corte halt and stare up into the hills. Lectain Zorkil continued shouting and waving his Torak flag until they spotted him. His purpose was to halt the column while his men got into position and he smiled as he saw them do just that.
Confusion reigned in the Situ column when one
of the riders pointed to the Ragatha Corte ahead of them blocking the trail. The Situ Cortain was torn between attacking the Ragatha Corte and retreating when another shout broke out from the North. The Situ turned and were puzzled to see a Corte of Sorgan troops off to their right. Lectain Zorkil turned his horse and headed down the slope towards the Situ Cortain as he heard a shout from the Litari. He could almost picture the Situ column looking off to their left at the Litari Clansmen.
Just before he entered the trail, Lectain Zorkil heard the shout from Cortain Tagoro and knew that the Situ were surrounded. Lectain Zorkil stared at the Situ Cortain as he rode slowly and purposely towards him. The Situ Cortain rode towards Zorkil and they met at the side of the trail.
“What is going on here, Lectain?” asked the Situ Cortain. “What Clan are your colors? They are not familiar to me.”
“They will be, Cortain,” Lectain Zorkil prophesized. “They are the colors of the Torak Clan. The Clan of Lord Marak.”
“Lord Marak?” questioned the Situ Cortain. “He is a Situ and he is wanted.”
“You are mistaken on one point, Cortain,” smiled Lectain Zorkil. “He is no longer a Situ, but he is wanted. He is wanted by each of the four Cortes surrounding you. All four of these Clans owe allegiance to Lord Marak. Instruct your men to abandon their weapons and they will get to live and swear allegiance to Lord Marak. Refuse and they will die, to the man.”
“All four Clans owe allegiance to Lord Marak?” questioned the Cortain. “How is that possible?”
“With Lord Marak, everything is possible,” laughed Lectain Zorkil. “Make your choice, Cortain. I have been instructed to accept your surrender if you offer it, but I am only going to listen up ‘til the time the first weapon is drawn. The choice is your to make . . . now.”
The Cortain turned and surveyed the four Cortes surrounding him. Knowing that not one of his men would survive, the Cortain ordered his men to abandon their weapons.
Chapter 25
Confrontation
Tmundo, Leader of the Kywara, gestured and Lord Marak sat by the fire. “Greetings, Leader of the Kywara,” opened Lord Marak. “Greetings, Head Shaman of the Kywara.”
“Welcome to our home, Lord Marak,” offered Tmundo.
“Greetings, Lord of the Torak,” smiled Rykoma. “What brings the Torak to our home?”
“Just the desire to visit and seek counsel,” answered Lord Marak. “How are the love birds getting along?”
“If they had not been already married and the parents of a mighty warlord,” chuckled Rykoma, “I would predict a union any day now.”
“Everything is as it should be,” smiled Tmundo. “They are inseparable. Like a pair of young cubs, they shudder at the thought of being apart for longer than a song. What counsel does the Lord of the Torak seek?”
Lord Marak picked up a stick and drew diagrams in the dirt. The diagrams were meaningless, but Marak felt better doing something with his hands. “I question the right way of the Chula,” started Lord Marak. “I have received a message from the Lords Council. An emissary of the Lords Council will arrive in Lituk Valley in two days. A Squad of Imperial troops have been sent to escort me to Lituk Valley for a mediation on the ownership of Fardale.”
“You have been expecting this,” noted Tmundo. “Are you not ready to deal with Lord Ridak?”
“I am prepared,” nodded Lord Marak. “I feel that I already know the outcome of the mediation. That is not the problem. The problem lies in the aftermath of negotiations.”
“You suspect that Lord Ridak or yourself will not be happy with the outcome of the mediation,” suggested Tmundo, “and a conflict of might will follow the decision of the Lords Council? Is that what troubles you?”
“No,” responded Lord Marak. “The conflict is inevitable. What concerns me is Ukaro. He feels this need to bring vengeance on Lord Ridak. Is this necessary according to your law? What happens if he does not kill Lord Ridak?”
“Ah,” sighed Rykoma, “I see your problem clearly. You also have a grievance against Lord Ridak. How is it possible for two men to kill the same man?”
“That is not Lord Marak’s problem,” interrupted Tmundo. “I am not sure how to answer your question, Lord Marak. There are no laws among the Chula regarding a man’s need for revenge. There are only customs and feelings. You seek to protect your father from harm, but he is the Head Shaman of the Zatong. He is a man who can take care of himself. You are a son who has no need of worry.”
“I’m not sure that is an acceptable answer,” countered Lord Marak. “I have seen my mother without Ukaro for many years. I do not wish to ever see her that way again. Will I offend Ukaro or the Chula if I do not inform him of the upcoming conflict?”
Tmundo picked up a stick and started poking the coals of the fire. Rykoma glanced at Tmundo and then moved his eyes to meet Lord Marak’s. “Ukaro is a proud man,” the Head Shaman of the Kywara announced. “He feels that Lord Ridak’s death will fall far short of restitution, but he will seek it as the only recourse he has. If you deprive him of that opportunity, purposely, it will hurt him deeply. He will see himself as a man whose son does not respect him and that will hurt him greater than the continued good health of Lord Ridak.”
“You are not aware of the power of a Chula Shaman,” interjected Tmundo. “Ukaro could cause more damage to the Situ Clan than five of your Cortes. You have no need to shield him from his enemies.”
“He is still a man,” retorted Lord Marak. “One arrow can end his life as easily as mine. Vengeance clouds a man’s mind and makes him careless.”
“You have just supplied your own answer,” stated Tmundo. “What do you think the loss of your life will mean to Ukaro? How will he cope with your death if it is at the hands of a man he should have already killed, but did not because he was cavorting with his long lost lover?”
“The fact that you failed to tell him about Lord Ridak to shield him from harm,” added Rykoma, “will add a twist to the knife of pain already in him. You are contemplating a path of remorse, young Marak. Talk with Ukaro and explain your feelings. He is a proud man, but he is also proud of you. He will not take offense at your words.”
"They have traveled to the Sacred Lake of our ancestors," offered Tmundo. "I will order an escort to show you the way. It is high in the mountains above the trees and beyond the Golden Gates.
Lord Marak nodded and rose from his seat by the fire. His mind wandered from what he would say to Ukaro, to the upcoming confrontation with Lord Ridak as he paced around the campfire. In moments, his escorts arrived and Marak mounted a jaguar for the journey further into the mountains. The group did not speak as they traveled and Marak paid little attention to his surroundings until they entered a large clearing and he saw the glint of sunlight reflecting off something in the distance. The mountains rose starkly here and as they approached the glinting object, Marak's eyes widened in wonder. The grass of the clearing gave way to an ancient road paved with white rocks and sand. Straddling the road where it entered a narrow pass between two mountains was the source of glinting.
Marak stared in awe at what must be the Golden Gate. It was an enormous arch formed by a golden lion and a golden jaguar. They rose on their hind legs several man-heights tall with their forepaws meeting to form the arch. As they passed underneath, Marak wondered about the ancient civilization the Chula must have had before the Khadorans invaded. The craftsmanship of the arch and the road were not the only things amazing about this feat. The secrecy of its existence was another. The amount of gold in the arch would bring the entire armies of Khadora storming into these mountains if anyone even suspected it existed.
Shortly after passing under the Golden Gate, the party halted on a grassy rise overlooking a pristine lake. Two figures could be seen on the distant shoreline and Marak left the jaguar and his escorts and strode towards the lake.
He headed towards the Sacred Lake, but he moved slowly, lost in thought. He arrived at the lake all too soon and still didn’t
have his thoughts collected when he saw his mother and father lying on the grass at the lake’s edge. He stood there silently for a moment soaking in a sight he had long dreamed of seeing. Glenda looked up and called to him and Marak strode over to greet his parents.
“You two are cavorting like a pair of youngsters,” chuckled Lord Marak. “I feel like I am intruding.”
“You will never be an intrusion in our lives, Marak,” answered Glenda.
“Come and sit down, my Son the Torak,” greeted Ukaro as he sat up. “We do not see enough of you these days.”
“I have many things to keep me busy, Father,” smiled Lord Marak. “You are welcome in Fardale. I know you do not appreciate living with the flatlanders, but they will accept you.”
“I do not need their acceptance when I have yours,” stated Ukaro. “Besides, I do not think it is wise for the flatlanders to know your father is a Chula. There may be times in the future when their lack of that knowledge will be helpful to you.”
“As you wish,” Lord Marak accepted as he sat down beside his parents. “I must talk with you about Lord Ridak.”
Glenda’s jaw tightened and her neck muscles tensed. The happy lines around Ukaro’s eyes disappeared and his eyebrows lowered. “He is a most unwelcome topic,” sighed Ukaro. “What is it you wish to discuss about him?”
“I want to discuss your need for revenge,” Lord Marak blurted out. “I do not want to see the joy drain out of your face as I just have. I do not want to see my mother go stiff with tension when his name is brought up but, most of all, I do not want to see this family further marred by this man. I want you to forego your revenge and leave Lord Ridak to me.”
“I believe that I have a prior claim on that son of a Situ,” demanded the Head Shaman of the Zatong.
Young Lord of Khadora Page 31