“We have not discovered who our enemy is,” shrugged Lord Marak, “and I doubt that Lord Quavry will tell us even when he is confronted with his deceit. Our only option is to allow the message to get through to its intended recipient. We have made plans to engage the enemy when they strike at the caravan.”
“I see,” murmured the seneschal. “Very well. I will be ready for Marshal Patoga when he summons me.”
* * *
Mistake walked away from her horse and greeted some old friends that she had met on her last visit to Fardale. The diminutive Fakaran talked briefly to her friends and started towards the mansion. Suddenly, a voice pierced the air, and Mistake sprinted for the cover of a large tree.
“Misty?” called the male voice. “Misty come back. What are you doing here?”
Mistake had caught a glimpse of the tall blond stranger before seeking the safety of the tree. She was sure that she had never seen the man before, and her mind whirled with questions. As she heard the man coming closer, a knife slipped from its sheath on her arm and slid smoothly into her waiting hand. She looked around frantically for a path of retreat, but the area was far to open to slip away. Bravely, she stepped out from behind the tree, her knife rising menacingly as she faced her opponent.
“Not one step farther,” Mistake warned. “I do not know who you are, but I am sure that we have never met. How do you know who I am?”
The man stopped and his eyes narrowed as he stared at the petite thief. Finally he shook his head in confusion.
“I am sorry,” he apologized. “I mistook you for someone else. Now that I can see you clearly, I know that you are not MistyTrail, but you look an awful lot like her. You move like her, too.”
Mistake dwelled on the man’s last statement. She had never known that her swiftness was a product of magic until the mages at Fardale had told her. Now this man was saying that he mistook her for another. He had to be lying, or was he?
“Who is this MistyTrail?” questioned Mistake. “Who are you?”
The man held up his hands to indicate that he was not a threat. “I am HawkShadow,” declared the man. “I am Sakovan, and MistyTrail is a friend of mine. I mean you no harm. I will leave you in peace and apologize for my actions.”
“No, wait,” Mistake blurted out. “You didn’t tell me who this MistyTrail is.”
“She is a Sakovan like myself,” shrugged HawkShadow. “That is why I was surprised to see her here in Fardale. She should be back home guarding the Sakova.”
“And I look like her?” questioned Mistake.
“From a distance,” HawkShadow nodded. “Now that I am closer I can tell that you are not her.”
“And she moves like me?” probed Mistake.
“She does,” HawkShadow nodded as he gazed questioningly at the small Fakaran. “She moves faster than anyone I know. She is also an excellent knife thrower. I would appreciate if you would put that knife away.”
Mistake nodded distractedly as she slid the knife into its sheath. She reached into her pack and extracted her carozit. She held it upside down and watched as the balls fell. They did not swing down and touch each other as gravity demanded, but they also did not stand out at right angles to the stick as they always had in the past. Instead the balls hung at an angle between the two likely positions.
“How far is this Sakova?” questioned Mistake.
“It is several days of riding to the south,” answered HawkShadow. “I cannot be more accurate than that. What is that thing you are holding?”
“It is a carozit,” answered Mistake. “It is meant to help me find my family.”
“Your family?” echoed HawkShadow. “I doubt MistyTrail could be your family. If you were Sakovan, I would know you. What is your name?”
“Mistake,” she answered. “Some people call me Missy. Is that what you call this MistyTrail?”
“Close,” HawkShadow shook his head. “We call her Misty for short at times. They do sound alike. Now we know why both of us were confused. Do you live here in Fardale? I have not seen you around before.”
“No,” answered Mistake as she returned the carozit to her pack. “I am from Fakara. I am visiting Lord Marak.”
“As are we,” smiled HawkShadow.
“We?” asked Mistake. “Is the Star of Sakova with you?”
“No,” HawkShadow responded. “She was here, but she left last week. Just StarWind and I are left. You must know Rejji, the Astor?”
“We are good friends,” Mistake nodded. “I help him with everything he does in Fakara.”
“Then we have much to talk about,” smiled HawkShadow. “I would like to learn everything about Fakara that I can. Come. I would like you to meet StarWind.”
“I have not yet told Lord Marak that I have arrived,” Mistake shook her head. “I must deliver something to him first. Perhaps later you can tell me about the Sakova and MistyTrail.”
Without waiting for a response, Mistake started running towards the mansion. She dashed up the steps and through the doors without looking back. As she waited inside the doors for her eyes to adjust to the dimness, she heard Lord Marak’s voice as he stepped out of the meeting room.
“Mistake!” greeted Lord Marak. “I had word that you would be arriving. What brings you to Fardale?”
“I came to speak to you, Lord Marak,” answered the Fakaran.
“Then come into my office,” offered Lord Marak as he led the way.
They moved along the corridor in silence until they were both seated in Lord Marak’s private office. Mistake reached into her pack and produced an ancient scroll and handed it to Lord Marak.
“Rejji wanted you to see this personally,” she said. “He felt it important enough to send me here with it. He did not want to chance the information in it to anyone else.”
Lord Marak carefully opened the ancient scroll and gazed at it. “Did this come from Angragar?” he asked.
“No,” Mistake replied. “We journeyed to Angragar to get more gold. After visiting the ancient ruins, we spent several days with the Qubari so that Rejji and Bakhai could visit with their people. I spent the time in their temple going through old scrolls. I found it there.”
“Would they archive a children’s story in the temple?” inquired Lord Marak.
“No,” Mistake shook her head. “This is no children’s story. Chief Dumo said it was correspondence from the elves.”
“Elves?” frowned Lord Marak. “Were there really elves?”
“He insists there were,” replied Mistake. “This scroll surely indicates that he is right.”
“But this is so outlandish,” retorted Lord Marak. “And where are the elves now? What happened to them?”
“Dumo insists that they still live,” responded Mistake. “But then again, he thinks I am one of them, so maybe it is all a children’s tale.”
Lord Marak stared at the small women across the desk from him. His eyes paused as they passed over her pointy ears, but he shook his head and returned his attention to the scroll.
“I read a small passage about the island of Motanga long ago,” sighed Lord Marak. “It also mentioned large apes, but I have since found out that the author’s knowledge of those places that he described was very limited. He mostly repeated tales that he had heard in a tavern somewhere. Certainly no reliable information.”
“This scroll did not come from the tales of a traveling merchant,” Mistake pointed out. “It has been preserved for over a thousand years in the temple in the jungle. I have seen enough of unbelievable things in the Qubari jungle that I will not discount anything I hear there.”
“You are right,” admitted Lord Marak. “Still, a civilization of intelligent apes? And even if this Vand did escape to the island of Motanga that was a long time ago. This scroll was also written a long time ago. Surely it is not pertinent any more.”
“Rejji does not hold the same skepticism that you do,” Mistake stated. “He believes that this scroll bears the truth and that we must prepa
re for the coming invasion.”
“And what do you think?” asked Lord Marak.
“I do not know what to think,” admitted Mistake. “So much has happened since I met Rejji. Much of it I would not have believed possible before. I tend to agree with Rejji, but I must be honest with you and myself. Part of me wants to believe that I am an elf, and that the elves still do exist. I want to believe this because that means that there is a chance that I do have family, and that I can find them someday. Maybe I am deceiving myself. I just don’t know.”
“At least your answer is honest,” Lord Marak smiled in sympathy for the young Fakaran. “May I keep this scroll for a while? I am leaving for the capital in the morning and I would like to review this in detail when I have the time.”
“It is yours to keep,” nodded Mistake. “It is exciting that you are going to Khadoratung. May I travel along with you? I would very much like to see the city that Rejji talks about so much. I would also like to see the marketplace to get ideas of what we can export. Rejji says that Ghala has grown too large already and he is planning to start new cities in other parts of Fakara.”
“You are welcome to join us,” smiled Lord Marak. “We already have a couple of Sakovans tagging along.”
“HawkShadow?” questioned Mistake.
“And StarWind,” replied Lord Marak. “Have you met?”
“I ran into HawkShadow on the way here,” responded Mistake. “He mistook me for someone called MistyTrail. Do you know her?”
Lord Marak stared at Mistake for a long moment before answering. “I thought you looked familiar when we first met here a long time ago,” he nodded. “I should have realized it then. You look remarkably like MistyTrail. So close that you could be sisters.”
“Do you think they will allow me to travel to the Sakova?” inquired Mistake. “I must meet this MistyTrail.”
“You will have to ask them,” frowned Lord Marak. “The Sakovans do not let outsiders trespass upon their land. I will vouch for your character, but that may not be enough to satisfy them.”
“You must make them allow it,” insisted Mistake. “If she is my sister, I must meet her.”
“I will do what I can,” promised Lord Marak as he began to feel uncomfortable with the topic of conversation. “So Rejji is truly rebuilding Fakara? What of the Jiadin?”
“There is bad news there,” frowned Mistake, as she knew the conversation had been intentionally changed. “Brakas and Zygor have been trying to resurrect the Jiadin. The free tribes have been hunting for them, but so far the search has not yielded their hiding place. What about your help in getting me into the Sakova?”
“If you are traveling with us to Khadoratung,” sighed Lord Marak, “you will have ample opportunity to talk with HawkShadow and StarWind. They are both high-ranking Sakovans. If anyone can get you permission to visit with MistyTrail, they can. Do not rush them, Mistake. These people have guarded their homeland with secrecy for many generations. Be open and honest with them, and I am sure they will respond in kind.”
“I understand,” pouted Mistake. “I do not blame you for not vouching for me, but I have changed. I do no steal any more. I just want to find my family.”
“You misunderstand me,” soothed Lord Marak. “I think your character is of the highest quality. You have stood by Rejji throughout every trial he has had. My hesitation has nothing to do with you. Once you meet the Sakovans, you will understand. Their very existence hangs on their secrecy. If they are to violate that for you, I want it to be their own decision, not a favor they are doing to please me. Do you understand?”
“I think I do,” Mistake nodded and smiled. “You will speak for me, though?”
“Without a doubt,” grinned Lord Marak. “In fact, by the time we reach Khadoratung, I do not think my approval will even matter to the Sakovans. You will get along with them just fine on your own.”
Chapter 6
Aakuta
Lord Marak arrived at the Sorgan estate in Watula Valley. The mansion guards saluted smartly and mentioned that Marshal Patoga was expecting him. Lord Marak dismounted and gazed briefly at the star-studded sky before nodding silently to the soldiers. He climbed the steps of the mansion and made his way to the marshal’s office. Marshal Patoga and Seneschal Shamino were waiting for him.
“Is the message in Lord Quavry’s handwriting?” asked Lord Marak.
“It is,” the seneschal nodded seriously. “There is no doubt in my mind that Lord Quavry has betrayed you.”
“Then let us go and attend to this foul deed,” snarled Lord Marak. “I cannot understand what he hopes to gain by his deceit.”
“He seeks your ruin,” interjected Marshal Patoga.
“My ruin will not return the Sorgan clan to his hands,” Lord Marak shook his head. “I have made explicit arrangements in the event of my death that all who owe allegiance to me shall be free men with ties to no one.”
“I suspect he thinks the Lords’ Council will overrule you,” offered Seneschal Shamino. “That is possible. The lords of Khadora would never accept your instructions.”
Lord Marak appeared lost in thought for several moments as the seneschal’s words sank in. He finally realized the truth in the words and vowed to find a way to make sure his wishes would be carried out in the event of his death.
“We should go,” Marshal Patoga said softly. “You both have a long journey ahead of you in the morning.”
Lord Marak nodded, and Marshal Patoga led the way to Lord Quavry’s chamber. Lord Marak opened the door to Lord Quavry’s room without knocking. The three visitors entered quietly, but Lord Quavry was awake and staring at them as they entered.
“What is the meaning of this intrusion?” barked Lord Quavry. “I may owe allegiance to you, but I still demand that you show me the respect due a lord.”
“There is no amount of respect that I could afford to show you,” retorted Lord Marak. “You have violated your Vows of Service to me. Who is the enemy that you conspire with?”
“Enemy?” blustered Lord Quavry. “What are you talking about? I have conspired with no one.”
“We intercepted your bird,” Lord Marak stated impatiently. “Where was it headed?”
“Bird?” echoed Lord Quavry. “I have no idea what you are talking about. If anyone sent a bird from Watula Valley, it was not my doing.”
“I checked with the bird keeper,” interrupted Seneschal Shamino. “He has verified that you released one of your special birds earlier today.”
“He is lying,” snapped Lord Quavry. “I shall deal with him immediately.”
“Stay,” commanded Lord Marak as Lord Quavry rose and started making for the door. “There is no fault to the bird keeper. It is you who are lying.”
“Nonsense,” insisted Lord Quavry. “You have no proof of any wrongdoings by me. This is just some game that you are playing to remove me from power and violate your own words.”
“I do not need a reason to remove you from office,” Lord Marak pointed out. “You serve at my pleasure. I do, however, need proof to end your life. I have the proof, but I am willing to spare your life if you will tell me who the enemy is that you conspire with.”
“I will hear no more of this nonsense,” blustered Lord Quavry. “Present your proof or leave my chamber.”
“I am his proof,” offered Seneschal Shamino. “I read the message that you sent. It not only shows your deceit, but it is unmistakably in your handwriting. Tell Lord Marak what he needs to know.”
“Who are you to order me to do anything?” snarled Lord Quavry. “Where is your loyalty?”
“Loyalty?” echoed the seneschal. “How can a lord who has violated his Vows of Service question another’s loyalty. You have fouled the name of the Sorgan clan with your deceit. Nothing could be more demeaning than to have a clan’s name besmirched by the foul deed of its own lord.”
“I ask you again, Lord Quavry,” Lord Marak persisted, “who was the message sent to?”
Sweat be
gan pouring down Lord Quavry’s face. His eyes narrowed as he looked at each of the three faces before him. Suddenly, he dashed to the table and pulled his sword free of its sheath, but he was too slow in his actions to attack. Marshal Patoga drew his sword and stabbed it into Lord Quavry’s chest. Lord Quavry dropped his sword, a pained look upon his face. His knees buckled and his hand went out to grasp the edge of the table for support, but he tumbled to the floor.
“The name?” demanded Lord Marak. “I will have the name of my enemy.”
Lord Quavry laughed weakly as blood dribbled from the corner of his mouth. “You don’t need a name, Lord Marak,” he gasped as pain wracked his body. “Everyone is your enemy. You are a dead man already. Nobody can stand against the Lords’ Council and expect to win. They will crush you painfully, I hope.”
Lord Quavry’s head fell to the side as he died. Lord Marak shook his head sadly.
“I did not expect anything out of him,” Lord Marak said bitterly. “At least in his death he did not disappoint me.”
“He said more than he should have,” interjected Seneschal Shamino.
“What do you mean?” asked Marshal Patoga.
“The message went to a member of the Lords’ Council,” explained Seneschal Shamino. “We may not know which one, but it is clear that Lord Quavry was dealing with one of them. It makes sense now. Only a lord on the Lords’ Council could make a coward like Quavry defy you.”
“That means that they will be pleased if Lord Marak shows up in Khadoratung for the Assembly of Lords,” frowned Marshal Patoga. “You must cancel your trip until we find out which of the six lords on the Lords’ Council is conspiring to defeat you.”
“I will not let others dictate my actions,” Lord Marak said steadfastly. “What better way to find my enemy than to enter his home. We leave at first light, Lord Shamino. Choose your replacement for seneschal. I will arrive with my escort in the morning, and we will hold a brief ceremony for you.”
Lord Shamino bowed low to Lord Marak before he left.
* * *
The Aritor squad leader halted his troops on the narrow mountain trail. As he dismounted and examined the bushes at the side of the trail, his face clouded over with wonder. His eyes ran up the steep slope, following the trail of destruction. One of the Aritor soldiers came over and knelt next to the squad leader.
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