Island of Darkness

by Richard S. Tuttle

  “Do you still hate HawkShadow?” questioned the Sakovan spy.

  “Of course not,” MistyTrail answered. “I have no finer friend in all the Sakova.”

  “So your emotions were clouded by your desire then?” smiled StarWind.

  “Worse than that,” MistyTrail responded with the hint of a chuckle. “I performed miserably when he finally gave in and let me go out. I made just about every mistake I could possibly make. It was not just my emotions that were clouded. My judgment was as well. I don’t know how HawkShadow ever forgave me for that.”

  “Then understand that Mistake’s emotions are clouding her judgment right now,” smiled StarWind. “Don’t let her words hurt you forever. Understand that she may have said things that really do not reflect on how she truly feels.”

  “I will not hold her words against her,” promised MistyTrail, “but I still do not know how to react to her.”

  “Then you should do what I do when I am confused about something,” suggested the Sakovan spy.

  “What do you do?” inquired MistyTrail.

  “I go to the temple and ask Kaltara for guidance,” smiled StarWind.

  MistyTrail’s eyes brightened and a smile crept onto her lips. “That is exactly what I will do,” the small Sakovan smiled.

  Chapter 4

  Food and More

  StarWind leaned against the rail fence of the practice yard in StarCity as she watched StormSong practicing against two opponents. As many times as the Sakovan spymaster had watched her friend spar, she was always amazed by the woman’s strength and endurance. Sweat soaked StormSong’s tunic, but she fought with a smile on her face. The two men fighting the female warrior were being worn down. StarWind could see it in their sluggish actions. They were getting tired and their reflexes had lost their quickness. With a sudden aggressive move, StormSong surged towards the two men, abandoning her defensive posture. Her wooden sword slapped the neck of one opponent while her leg snaked behind the other and toppled him to the ground. StormSong swung her sword away from the decapitated opponent and rested its tip at the throat of the fallen man while her legs straddled his body.

  “Well done,” panted the defeated man as he gently pushed the tip of StormSong’s sword to one side. “I have learned much from this spar. I will be a better match the next time.”

  StormSong smiled and extended a hand to the man to help him to his feet. “This spar was much better than the last,” she congratulated. “Soon I will be limited to fighting you two separately. Thank you for the spar.”

  StormSong approached the fence and StarWind tossed her a towel.

  “I always enjoy watching you spar,” grinned StarWind. “I am going to have to start watching you in the dining room. I want to eat what you eat.”

  “It is not my diet,” laughed StormSong as she dried herself. “We both excel at what we do because we are doing what we love to do. You do not want to be like me any more than I want to be like you. I admire your intelligence and the way you handle a huge spy network. Nobody else could do the job you do. I just enjoy the art of fighting.”

  “There is great truth in your words,” smiled StarWind. “Still, I very much enjoy watching you spar.”

  “And I enjoy doing it,” grinned StormSong. “How was your trip to Khadora?”

  “It was very interesting,” StarWind replied. “Emperor Marak is a most interesting man. I learned a great deal while I was up there.”

  “I heard about him becoming the Emperor,” remarked StormSong. “In some ways I am delighted for him, but another part of me considers it a waste of his time.”

  “A waste of his time?” echoed the Sakovan spymaster. “How can you say such a thing? He is the best thing to ever happen to Khadora. They will finally emerge as a true nation.”

  “That is probably true,” shrugged StormSong, “but Marak is also the greatest fighter that I have ever known. That man was born to stand on the field of battle and whittle down his foes. I picture him standing victorious on a great battlefield, his enemies’ blood running down his upheld blade and staining the ground around his feet. I do not picture him in a crown, sitting at a desk with a pile of papers before him.”

  “Your imagination is vivid,” chuckled StarWind. “I seriously doubt that Emperor Marak will spend much time in the Imperial Palace. He is a man of action as you describe. He will find a way to insert himself into whatever battle comes his way.”

  “I will offer prayers to Kaltara for him,” smiled StormSong.

  “The temple will become a busy place,” frowned StarWind as her mind drifted.

  “What do you mean?” questioned StormSong.

  “MistyTrail has been in the temple for two days now,” explained StarWind. “She was having trouble adjusting to having a sister. I suggested that she pray about it. She has not left the temple since. I take her food several times a day, but she barely touches it. I am worried about her.”

  “Do you want me to talk to her?” asked StormSong.

  StarWind gazed at StormSong and shook her head as she laughed. “I think it would be more appropriate for you to beat some sense into Mistake,” she chuckled. “I am sorry StormSong, but I can’t picture you as a mother hen with MistyTrail.”

  “Good,” laughed StormSong. “Beating Mistake does sound like more fun. It would be challenging, too. Both of them move so swiftly. Seriously, if I can help in any way, please let me know.”

  “I will,” smiled StarWind. “The funny thing is how much alike they are. While MistyTrail has holed up in the temple, Mistake has refused to leave her room. If I did not know that Mistake has mounds of provisions in her pack, I would become concerned for her health as well.”

  “They will work it out,” soothed StormSong. “It must be quite an adjustment for both of them, but they are so much alike. I cannot imagine them in any relationship but one of loving sisters. They just need time to sort things out.”

  “I hope you are right,” sighed StarWind. “I will give them another day before I bring the matter to Lyra’s attention.”

  * * *

  The Sakovan caravan rolled through the gates of Alamar. The Imperial Guards gave a brief glance into the wagons and muttered cheerfully when they saw the contents. They happily waved the wagons through the gate.

  SpringThaw led the three Sakovan wagons through the streets of the Omungan city. Beside her on the lead wagon, FalconEye gazed far into the distance as he searched for the intersection they were instructed to turn at. A few minutes later, FalconEye grinned and tapped SpringThaw’s arm three times. The driver nodded her understanding.

  “The people seem friendly enough,” remarked SpringThaw. “Some are even waving to us, and I doubt they know what is in the wagons.”

  “Our troubles have never been with the people of Omunga,” replied FalconEye. “It is the government that seeks to destroy us. Is this your first trip to an Omungan city?”

  “It is,” nodded SpringThaw. “I was supposed to go on one earlier, but that was when the incident with Alazar happened. Lyra cancelled all educational trips to Omunga. I find it exciting. I am surprised that I was chosen to lead this historic trip.”

  “You do well enough with the wagons and our men,” complimented FalconEye. “You are also smart enough to be cautious in what you say. Others might develop an attitude about giving our food to the Omungans. That would defeat our purpose.”

  “How can we begrudge food to others?” questioned SpringThaw. “We have an excess, and these people are starving. It is what Kaltara would expect of us.”

  “You are correct,” smiled FalconEye, “and yet we need to be aware that we are trespassers here. Some Omungans will not look upon us so kindly. It will take the proper attitude to sway their minds. I believe that is why you were chosen to lead this caravan. You will represent the true feelings of the Sakovans as few others could do.”

  “Don’t you feel the same way as I do?” questioned SpringThaw. “Do you think we are making a mistake by giving up our f
ood?”

  “Not at all,” FalconEye shook his head, “but other thoughts cloud my mind. While I agree with our policy of sharing our food, I also am wary enough to expect trouble in return for our kindness. I believe that is why I was chosen to accompany you.”

  “So you are to watch my back in case of trouble?” asked the driver.

  “Exactly,” nodded FalconEye. “My mouth will remain closed while we are in the city. Yours will be the voice of Sakova while we are here. Turn here.”

  SpringThaw turned to the left and traveled along a lesser street. She looked back to make sure that the other wagons followed and then concentrated on navigating the narrow street. Several blocks along the street, FalconEye signaled for another turn.

  “There it is,” pointed FalconEye as a new building came into view. “That will be Temiker’s new school. We will stop there to find out where we are supposed to deliver this food.”

  SpringThaw angled her wagon towards the left side of the street. She smoothly brought it to a halt in front of the magic school. The mage, Temiker, was already standing outside the building. He waved cheerily at the caravan.

  “You made good time,” greeted Lyra’s uncle. “Take a short break and have some food. Then I will take you to the Imperial Guard.”

  “What about the food?” questioned FalconEye. “Someone might steal some of it while we are inside.”

  “And what if they do?” smiled Temiker. “These people are starving. If some should get a few handfuls before the others, it will not matter in the long run. Go inside and refresh yourselves.”

  The six Sakovans jumped off the wagons and hurried inside the school. When Temiker turned to join them, he saw a brown streak separate from the last wagon and dash into the alley alongside the school. His brow creased with curiosity. Quietly he stole along the street to the corner of the schoolhouse.

  After the fire that had burned the last schoolhouse, Temiker had purchased a larger portion of land to build his new school. Park-like lots adjoined the school on each side. As Temiker peered around the corner of the schoolhouse, he saw a small figure darting from tree to tree as it made its way towards the rear of the building. He smiled inwardly as he cast a spell towards the swift-moving person. He was rewarded with a cry of surprise.

  Temiker turned the corner and hurried towards the captured figure. He chuckled to himself as he saw MistyTrail frozen from the neck down. He was just about to release her from the spell when a pall of confusion fell across his face. The captured person was not MistyTrail.

  “Who are you?” he asked as he stepped in front of the diminutive woman.

  “Let me go, wizard,” snapped the woman. “Let me go, or you will rue this day forever.”

  “You are in a poor position to make demands,” chuckled Temiker. “When someone sneaks into Alamar onboard a Sakovan wagon, I think it is my business to find out who you are and what you are up to. I will have answers before your are freed.”

  “I think not,” the woman said adamantly. “Who I am, and where I go is none of your business, magician. Release me at once, or I will scream loudly.”

  “You will scream, will you?” laughed the old mage. “You obviously don’t know an awful lot about Omunga. The Imperial Guards would answer your cry in a heartbeat, but they will not be so gentle with their questioning.”

  The woman pouted and refused to speak. Temiker’s eyes narrowed as he studied the face of the young woman.

  “Are you related to MistyTrail?” he asked. “You look so much like her that I mistook you for her when I first saw you.”

  “You know MistyTrail?” gasped the young woman. “How is it that an Omungan knows a Sakovan?”

  “I know many people,” smiled Temiker. “MistyTrail is a dear friend of mine.”

  “I don’t believe you,” spat the young woman.

  “That hardly matters,” frowned Temiker. “If you will not speak to me, I shall have to contact Lyra and find out what is to be done with you.”

  “You know the Star of Sakova?” frowned the woman. “Who are you?”

  “I am Temiker,” declared the mage. “Lyra is my niece. She will instruct me as to what to do with you.”

  “Wait!” called the woman as Temiker turned to leave. “My name is Mistake. I will tell you what you want to know. Just do not tell the Sakovans where I am? You must promise.”

  “Promise?” echoed Temiker. “I cannot make such a promise to you. If you have wronged the Sakovans, I am duty-bound to hold you until they come to retrieve you.”

  “I have done nothing wrong,” Mistake insisted. “Please let me go. All I did was run away from them. I don’t want to be with them any longer. I did not even take anything that did not belong to me.”

  Temiker smiled at the woman’s admission. He realized that she must have been in similar situations in the past.

  “If I free you from my spell,” asked Temiker, “Do you promise to tell me what has happened without trying to run away?”

  Mistake hesitated and Temiker’s eyes narrowed.

  “I can cast spells much quicker than you can run,” he warned. “You will make the promise and keep it, or I shall contact Lyra immediately. Trust me when I say that I can speak to her within minutes.”

  “You know how to use an air tunnel?” gasped Mistake.

  “I do,” nodded Temiker.

  “Alright,” sighed Mistake. “I will stay and tell you why I am leaving the Sakovans, but if you even try to contact them, the deal is off.”

  “Fair enough,” smiled Temiker as he waved his hand over Mistake. “Come around to the rear door of the school. I will get you inside without the Sakovans seeing you. You could probably use a good hot meal while I direct the food wagons to the Imperial Guard.”

  Mistake nodded eagerly as she rubbed her hands over her body to get rid of the chill of the magical spell. She followed the magician to the rear of the school and slid through the door. Several students looked up as she entered, but they immediately returned to their studies. Temiker led her directly to the kitchen.

  “Eat what you want,” offered Temiker. “I will guide the Sakovans to the Imperial Guard and return to talk to you. Remember your promise.”

  “I will,” sighed Mistake as she wondered where she could possibly go now that she had fled the Sakova.

  Temiker left the kitchen and entered the dining room where the Sakovans were sitting. He waited patiently as the last of them finished eating. When they were done, Temiker walked them to the wagons. He climbed up onto the seat of the first wagon and gave directions to SpringThaw. Within minutes the caravan was parked in front of the headquarters of the Imperial Guard in Alamar. People looked curiously as SpringThaw and Temiker climbed off the wagon and entered the building.

  Temiker led SpringThaw across the floor of the large foyer in the headquarters. A long oval counter sat in the middle of the room, and Temiker marched straight towards it.

  “We would like to see General Manitow,” Temiker announced to one of the Imperial Guards behind the counter, his voice echoing loudly throughout the room.

  The Imperial Guard looked up with an air of annoyance. He looked briefly at Temiker, but his eyes lingered on SpringThaw.

  “Who are you, and what do you want with the general?” asked the Imperial Guard.

  “Surely you recognize me,” Temiker retorted. “My friend is an emissary from Sakova.”

  There were a half dozen Imperial Guards behind the counter, and a dozen more traversing the room from one corridor to the next. They all stopped and stared at SpringThaw as if a murder had just been committed in the foyer.

  “A Sakovan?” echoed the Imperial Guard with a hint of condemnation in his voice. “What is she doing here?”

  “She is delivering three wagons of food for the people of Alamar,” declared Temiker. “Will you summon the general please?”

  The room burst into motion. Two Imperial Guards who had been leaving a corridor immediately turned and ran back through the archway. A
half dozen other Imperial Guards crowded around the front door of the building, peering at the caravan parked out front. Barely a minute had passed when a tall gray-haired officer strode through one of the archways and approached Temiker and SpringThaw.

  “I am General Manitow,” he announced. “What is going on here?”

  Temiker smiled and stepped back so that SpringThaw was left facing the general on her own. The Sakovan inhaled deeply before speaking.

  “I am SpringThaw,” the Sakovan declared. “I have been sent to Alamar by the Star of Sakova. We have brought three wagons of watula for the people of Alamar.”

  “How much?” General Manitow asked sharply.

  “There is no charge for the food,” replied SpringThaw. “It is a gift from the Sakovans to their peaceful Omungan neighbors. I have come to you for help in distributing it properly. I do not wish to cause havoc in your streets.”

  “Is this some Sakovan trick?” questioned the general. “Why would the Sakovans send food to us?”

  “Your people are starving,” answered SpringThaw. “We have a surplus. Is that not what neighbors do in times of need?”

  “Not in my lifetime,” frowned the general. “You say that there is no cost to us for this food, but I am curious what the Sakovans hope to gain from this gesture.”

  “Peace,” smiled SpringThaw. “Peace between our peoples, and good health for the people of Alamar. We would like to make regular shipments to your city. Can we discuss this while your men arrange to distribute the food?”

  “Regular shipments?” echoed General Manitow. “Do you mean that the Sakovans are willing to send more food to us without cost?”

  “That is exactly what I mean,” SpringThaw smiled as she nodded.

  “Let me inspect your cargo,” stated the general as he turned and headed for the street.

  SpringThaw followed the general out of the building. Temiker also followed but he kept his distance. He did not want to be the center of attention at this time. He knew that the Omungan people had to realize who was making the gift.