“What do you see?” Lady Mystic asked impatiently.
Xavo did not answer as he stood peering at the distant temple. His head shook dismissively as his attention remained intent on the throng of distant Motangans.
“This illusion does nothing to shield us from the sun,” warned Vand’s daughter. “It is already climbing into the sky, and I am not about to stand out here and bake while you ignore me. What are you looking at?”
Xavo sighed and dropped his hands to his side.
“It was not what I was watching,” he explained softly, “it was what I was listening to. We are too far away to see much of anything other than thousands of Motangans milling about.”
“Fine,” snapped Lady Mystic. “What were you listening to?”
“Pakar is leaving the temple,” smiled Xavo. “He is taking his mages with him. I suspect that Vand is sending them somewhere, and they are not too happy with the order.”
“All of the mages?” brightened Lady Mystic.
“Yes,” smiled Xavo. “Our greatest worry about approaching the temple is no worry at all. With Vand’s mages away from Vandegar, we can easily slip into the temple unseen.”
“Praise Kaltara,” exclaimed Vand’s daughter.
Xavo turned and stared at his partner in disbelief.
“What did you say?” he asked. “I thought you did not believe in god?”
Lady Mystic blushed profusely and shrugged.
“Times change,” Lady Mystic offered meekly. “Think about it for a moment. Although we have both tried to deny His existence, we readily accept that Dobuk is guiding Vand’s every step. How can we possibly believe in the Great Demon without acknowledging that his counterpart must also exist? Face it, Xavo, we were wrong. Kaltara not only exists, but He is driving us towards our destiny.”
“I thought we were walking,” Xavo grumbled sarcastically.
“Say what you will, Master Magician,” smiled Lady Mystic, “but I know your thoughts well enough. You have already accepted the truth, but you are too stubborn to admit it. As the father of the Star of Sakova, you should have been among the first to understand what is going on in this world.”
“I should have been among the first,” Xavo sighed in defeat, “but I was not. I still cannot forgive myself for the troubles I caused Lyra. It all seems so long ago.”
“Much has transpired since then,” consoled Lady Mystic. “You are no longer Aakuta, and Malafar is a distant memory. You have changed, and I mean more than just your appearance. Lyra would be proud of you now.”
“My daughter would not even recognize me,” chuckled Xavo.
“There is that, too,” Lady Mystic frowned. “You do realize that we will be in Vandegar when the armies of the Torak attack? It is very likely that the friends of your daughter will kill us when they arrive. No one knows that we are heading here.”
“Does it matter if we are slain by my daughter or by your father?” shrugged Xavo. “No one lives forever. Let’s get out of this sun and find a place to hide in the temple while we think of a plan to defeat Dobuk.”
Lady Mystic smiled and reached for her lover’s hand. They had not walked but a few steps before Lady Mystic stiffened and clamped Xavo’s hand in fear. Xavo turned to look at his partner and saw her staring upward. His own eyes rose and scanned the sky. His mouth hung open as he watched the huge black shape flap its wings. Two other black shapes launched themselves from the roof of the temple and sped after the first.
“Demons,” Lady Mystic hissed under her breath. “Do not move. Our illusion is not strong enough to withstand their scrutiny.”
Xavo continued to stare skyward as the huge beasts flapped their wings in long, slow, powerful beats. The two trailing demons raced to get ahead of the first as all three soared higher into the sky. The first demon snarled at his pursuers as if daring them to question his supremacy. In moments they were too high up to distinguish, and Xavo felt Lady Mystic’s grip relax.
“They are so full of themselves,” Lady Mystic sighed in relief. “If any one of them had been paying attention, we would no longer exist.”
“We could have given them a fight,” Xavo shrugged boastfully.
“No, Xavo,” Lady Mystic corrected seriously. “Our magic is useless against them.”
“Useless?” balked Xavo. “They are physical creatures. Nothing is indestructible. It would just be a matter of finding their weakness.”
“Legend says that they are immune to magic,” retorted Lady Mystic.
“Legends have been wrong before,” countered Xavo.
“Perhaps,” Vand’s daughter conceded, “but you would only have seconds to prove it wrong. Your first spell would be your last before their talons ripped you to shreds. What spell would you attempt?”
Xavo stood in contemplation for a moment before sighing. “Let’s get out of the sun,” he said dryly.
The couple continued walking across the parched land towards the temple. They did not hurry, nor did they dally. As they got closer to the building, they were forced to thread their way through groups of Motangan soldiers that had set up camp outside the temple. Directly around the temple were the thickest crowds of soldiers. Xavo stepped in front of Lady Mystic and, while still holding her hand, led the way single file through the throng of Motangans.
When they reached the front of the temple, they marched up the stairs and found the doors closed. Xavo led Lady Mystic to one side and halted. He did not dare to open the door to gain entrance to the temple. To do so would expose their existence. Patiently, the two mages waited for the door to open. The wait seemed interminable as they listened to the banter of the nearby soldiers.
“I heard that the Khadorans are only two days away,” remarked a hawk-nosed soldier.
“Have you heard their numbers?” asked his bald companion.
“No,” admitted the first soldier, “but numbers hardly matter in this battle. The dead warriors will take the brunt of any attack. We will be lucky if any Khadorans even reach the temple.”
“The rest of our armies did not fair well against these Khadorans and their friends,” retorted the bald man. “Don’t be so sure that the dead will slow them down.”
“Half a million invincible warriors?” chuckled the first soldier. “Don’t be ridiculous. I have heard that they cannot die.”
“They are already dead,” countered the bald man. “I do not like this magic stuff. How can they be invincible if they have already died once?”
“Well,” pondered the first soldier, “it is said that we cannot die any more, either. So what are you worried about?”
“I do not believe everything that I am told,” snapped the bald man. “If you think that we will rise from the dead to continue fighting, then you go ahead and believe that. I intend to stay alive.”
The door opened as a group of soldiers filed out. Xavo moved quickly to snare the door before it could close. He swiftly led Lady Mystic through the doors into the temple. The two mages paused inside the doors to let their eyes adjust to the dimness. As soon as his vision was clear, Xavo led Lady Mystic to the stairway and up the stairs.
Lady Mystic marveled at the similarities of the Vandegar Temple to the one she had grown up in on the Island of Darkness. She had heard that the Motangan temple was modeled after an ancient one, but she was filled with awe to actually be in the original temple. She was vaguely aware of being led by Xavo as if he knew exactly where he was going, but her mind was distant as she tried to visualize what life must have been like in the ancient temple in the days of its glory.
Unexpectedly, Xavo stopped at a blank spot on the wall of a corridor. He waved his hand slightly while mumbling under his breath, and a door appeared in the wall. The mage opened the door and ushered Lady Mystic inside. He closed the door and cast a spell over it. Lady Mystic shook her head in confusion and cast an illumination spell so that she could see in the dark windowless wall. She involuntarily inhaled deeply when she saw the skeleton on the floor.
“An old friend,” Xavo shrugged softly as he picked up a chair that had been tipped over.
He placed the chair at a nearby table and ushered Lady Mystic into it. He then walked around the table and sat opposite her.
“Who was he?” she asked.
“His name was Brakas,” answered Xavo. “He was a Fakaran who aided Vand’s mages here. His death was satisfying, but I hid the room to avoid anyone discovering the body before I caught up with Smarc at the mouth of the Meliban River.”
“So no one knows that this room even exists?” asked Lady Mystic.
“I cannot guarantee that,” shrugged Xavo, “but we should be safer here than anywhere else that I can think of. What were those soldiers saying about a half million dead warriors?”
“I have no idea,” confessed Vand’s daughter, “but I did notice the mark of the hellsoul on each of those soldiers at the entrance to the temple. My father appears to be forming a formidable army to deal with the Torak.”
“And it appeared that the Torak’s forces were actually winning this war,” sighed Xavo. “Vand sacrificed a million men in attempts to secure the mainland. Do you think that was all a ruse to allow him to return here without opposition?”
“No,” Lady Mystic answered after some thought. “I think my father has had a lot of time to dwell upon his revenge. I am sure that he worked out several different attacks to control the mainland. The other invasions were serious attempts to annihilate the people living here, but it was not his only plan. The defense of Vandegar may not even be his last plan. There is no way to know.”
“Well there are some things that we must find out,” Xavo declared as he stripped off his pack and withdrew his black cloak and put it on.
“You are leaving the room already?” asked Lady Mystic. “Why not rest a bit first?”
“We do not know how long Pakar will be gone from the temple,” answered Xavo. “The soldiers are conditioned not to interfere with a mage, so it makes sense to find out what we can as quickly as we can. You can rest here while I go sniffing around.”
“That is hardly an option,” Lady Mystic shook her head. “Two can search quicker than one. Let me get my cloak on before you unseal the door.”
* * *
Thousands of Fakaran tribesmen gathered at the great bulge of the Meliban River, which was halfway between the Valley of Bones and Vandegar. The free tribes had followed the north fork of the river, while the Jiadin had proceeded along the south fork. The ancient forests along the banks of the Meliban River had escaped the devastation wrought by the mages of the old invaders, and the two massive armies met under the thick canopy to begin their ride across the open plains towards Vandegar.
By the time the free tribes reached the meeting place, the Jiadin had been waiting for two days. King Rejji, shaman Bakhai, and Marshal Wyant dismounted and walked towards the Jiadin encampment. Wyant led the way through the Jiadin camps until he saw the Jiadin leader. Harmagan rose with three of his fellow tribesmen.
“We meet again, Marshal,” smiled Harmagan. “I am sure you remember my little brother, Scarab. The others are Jaker and Niger. What took you so long? We have been waiting days for you and we had the longest path to get here.”
Rejji stared open-mouthed at Harmagan’s brother. His mouth opened to speak, but Bakhai’s hand was quick to land upon his brother’s arm. He purposely stepped in front of Rejji and spoke.
“It is proper to show respect to the king,” admonished the shaman.
Harmagan frowned in confusion for a moment, but his recovery was quick enough to avoid embarrassment. He bowed towards King Rejji.
“We meant no disrespect,” the Jiadin said earnestly. “It is hard for the Jiadin to grow accustomed to such formalities.”
Rejji smiled and nodded as he stepped around Bakhai.
“Then let us sit and talk,” Rejji said in a friendly manner. “I am not used to these formalities either.”
The men sat around a fire, and Harmagan ordered food for the new arrivals.
“We had expected you sooner,” Harmagan said as he tried to assess the young man who changed the whole of Fakara. “Did you have problems along the way?”
“No problems at all,” answered Wyant. “We only travel half days.”
“Half days?” echoed Harmagan. “I do not understand. If we continue at such a slow pace, the Khadorans will have killed the Motangans before we get to Vandegar.”
“There is no need to rush,” smiled Rejji. “The Khadorans are two days away from Vandegar. Even at half day rides, we will arrive in plenty of time for the Jiadin to shed much blood.”
“But there are only fifty thousand Motangans there,” objected Jaker. “The Jiadin alone could handle such a force, and we could be at Vandegar within a day. Let us ride on ahead and save the Khadorans from the horrors of combat.”
“The tales of Vand’s strength are mere rumors,” interrupted Harmagan’s brother, Scarab. “Let me ride on ahead and assess the situation.”
“Alone?” questioned Wyant.
Harmagan laughed loudly and everyone stared at him curiously.
“My little brother is fearless,” he boasted. “He has been talking for days about going on ahead to scout things out. The thing is, I believe he can do it and come back alive. I think the king should seriously consider his offer.”
Rejji looked at Bakhai questioningly, and the shaman shrugged noncommittally. Wyant appeared to be greatly confused.
“Let me discuss this with my shaman and sheriff,” Rejji stated as he rose.
The three Fakarans stepped away from the campfire and spoke in hushed tones.
“Just what is going on here?” asked Rejji. “Is there some joke that I am not aware of?”
“Joke?” balked Wyant. “I do not think Harmagan means any disrespect. If he is guilty of anything, perhaps it is overconfidence. He believes that his brother can do almost anything. I would like to point out that Scarab was instrumental in getting the Jiadin to ally with us. He also saved my life in Meliban. Maybe he can successfully infiltrate the Motangan defenses.”
“The joke is on you, Wyant,” smiled Bakhai. “The one you call Scarab is really named Fisher. He is Emperor Marak’s personal friend and spy. The real question is what is he doing here?”
“Fisher?” echoed Wyant as a crimson tone spread across his face. “But how could Harmagan possibly believe that Fisher is his brother?”
“He doesn’t believe it,” replied Rejji. “Obviously, Fisher has some hold over Harmagan.”
“More likely,” interjected Bakhai, “Harmagan owes his life to Fisher. Whatever the reason, we should not let on that we know who Scarab is.”
“I also owe my live to Fisher, or Scarab, or whatever you want to call him,” nodded Wyant. “If he is Marak’s spy, there may be a chance that he could assess the situation at Vandegar. What is the harm in letting him try?”
“I think it is an excellent idea,” grinned Bakhai. “If nothing else, it would stop Harmagan from wondering why we are moving so slowly each day. We can say that we must allow Scarab the time to fully scout out the Motangan armies.”
“True,” Rejji nodded vigorously. “The free tribes are already questioning our pace. I do not need to add the constant questioning from the Jiadin. Call Scarab over.”
Wyant returned to the campfire and requested the presence of Harmagan’s little brother. Scarab smiled tautly and joined the group.
“Thank you for not exposing me,” Fisher said softly. “Scarab is a persona that I could not duplicate.”
“I can well imagine the truth to that statement,” smiled Rejji. “When this is all over, I want to hear the full story.”
“So you shall,” grinned Fisher.
“Can you really infiltrate the Motangans safely?” asked Bakhai.
“Safely?” echoed Fisher. “Nothing that I do can be done safely, but I am the best at what I do.”
“What do you truly hope to accomplish at Vandegar?” asked Wyant.
> “There are several pieces of information that will be essential to see this matter closed,” answered Fisher. “We need to verify that Vand is indeed at Vandegar. We need to know what surprises he has up his sleeves, and if he has other forces that could be brought in behind us. The man seems to have an uncanny knowledge of our movements, and that causes me to worry about his strategy.”
“Do you need help?” asked Rejji. “I am sure that I could find others with the necessary skills to accompany you.”
“I work best alone,” Fisher shook his head. “It will be hard enough to get away from Harmagan without him sending an escort with me.”
“Does he know who you are?” asked Rejji.
“He does,” nodded Fisher, “but he will never tell anyone. He will maintain that I am his brother until his dying breath.”
“Impressive,” acknowledged Wyant.
“Get your gear together and leave when you are ready,” ordered King Rejji. “I will keep Harmagan occupied with other matters.”
Fisher nodded gratefully and ran off into the Jiadin encampment. The three Fakarans returned to the Jiadin campfire and sat down with Harmagan, Jaker, and Niger.
“Your brother is a most amazing man,” smiled Rejji as he sat down. “His courage and dedication speaks volumes of the bravery of the Jiadin.”
Harmagan and the other Jiadin beamed with pride, and the Jiadin leader signaled for Jaker and Niger to follow Scarab.
“Stay,” ordered King Rejji. “You have not been dismissed yet.”
“They are going with Scarab,” objected Harmagan. “He needs someone to watch his flanks.”
“Have you so little faith in the skills of your brother?” questioned Rejji. “Besides, I have decided to ride the rest of the way to Vandegar with the Jiadin as my escort. I would like Jaker and Niger to be my personal escorts, with you at my side of course.”
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