The dragon circled over the half-destroyed city, the early morning light casting long shadows from the few buildings left standing. Most of the wooden structures in Duran had been burned to the ground during the earlier Motangan invasion, but the stone structures were still intact. It was in the stone structures that the soldiers slept and the perishables were kept. The rest of Duran consisted of piles of burnt debris and crates of supplies waiting to be picked up and ferried to the invading armies. The Torak gazed down on the enemy supply depot and searched for signs of sentries. He saw none.
“They are not early risers,” Emperor Marak declared. “We need to find the mage first. I do not want word of the attack to reach the Island of Darkness.”
“Can Myka get us down there without being seen or heard?” asked the Star of Sakova.
“Just give the word,” replied the dragon. “I can glide along the base of the Wall of Mermidion. Any sentries awake would be more likely to keep a close eye on the sea.”
“Let’s do it,” urged the Torak. “I prefer to be on the ground before they wake up.”
“Hmmph,” snorted the dragon. “Some day you will eat those words. There is no better place to command a battle than on the back of a winged warrior.”
“I will stay with Myka,” volunteered Lyra. “I have no reason for close contact with the enemy. You flush them out into the open, Marak, and I will deal with them.”
“The Star of Sakova understands,” grinned the dragon as she quietly touched down at the base of the cliffs. “Enter the rat holes and chase out the prey, Torak. We will be waiting above you.”
Marak slid off the dragon without comment. He did not bother to turn around and watch the dragon leap into the air. He pulled the Sword of Torak from its sheath and headed for the first stone building.
The first stone building was a mill, and Marak approached with his long, black, sinuous blade held before him. He peered through the window and saw two Motangan soldiers sleeping. Silently he made his way to the door and crept into the small building. His eyes swept the dark corners of the room before moving to stand over the two Motangans. His first swing decapitated one of the sleeping soldiers. The other soldier woke as blood splattered onto his body, but Marak drove the Sword of Torak through the man’s heart before the Motangan realized what was happening. The Torak moved on.
Stone buildings dotted the old city. Some of them used to house smiths and trade shops, but one was much larger than the rest. It was the headquarters of the Imperial Guards. The building was the most likely place to find the mage, but it was also where Marak was apt to find a large concentration of enemy soldiers. He moved cautiously to a window and peered inside.
The room had piles of cloth covering crates, which were stacked half way to the ceiling. Marak could not see any Motangans in the room. Sheathing his sword, the Torak climbed in the window and quietly lowered himself to the floor. He padded softly to the door and eased it open. Beyond the door was a large entry foyer with several soldiers sleeping on the floor. A number of other doors lined the opposite wall, and there was a staircase leading to the next level. Marak frowned at the possibility of finding the mage without waking any of the soldiers, but he had to try. Maintaining the secrecy surrounding Duran was vital to his plans.
Marak slid out of the room and closed the door. He moved silently to the stairs and slowly started climbing them. He was half way up the stairs when movement on the upper floor caught his eye. He froze.
Marak saw the swirl of a black cloak as the mage closed a door and locked it. The Torak slowly and silently took several Sakovan stars from his pouch as he waited for the mage to move towards the top of the stairs where he would get a decent shot at him.
“Intruder!” shouted a voice behind Emperor Marak.
The Torak whirled around and saw a soldier drawing his sword. The other five soldiers were quickly leaving their slumber behind and scrambling to their feet. Sounds of cursing and running were audible over his head, and Marak knew that it was time to leave the building as quickly as he could.
The Torak raced down the stairs, the first Sakovan star already sailing through the air. It impacted the shouting soldier just above the nose, the man teetering slightly before falling to the floor. Two other soldiers were already to their feet and drawing their swords. Marak sent two Sakovan stars flying towards the men. He struck one Motangan in the forehead, but the other man had moved too quickly.
Marak drew his sword as he raced for the front door of the building. He wanted to look over his shoulder to see who was coming after him, but he could not afford to with four soldiers before him. He charged directly at the man who already was armed. The Motangan tensed and took a defensive stance, his sword held before him. Marak jogged to one side at the last minute, swinging his long two-handed sword at the Motangan. The enemy’s sword clattered to the floor, with the man’s hand still gripping the hilt.
The Torak charged into another man who was fumbling for his sword. He knocked the soldier over and raced out the front door. Once out of the building, the Torak immediately moved to the right so that he was not visible to the mage. He heard someone shouting instructions to the soldiers and figured that it was either an officer or the mage. He wasn’t sure which, but the orders made up Marak’s mind as to how to proceed with the battle. They wanted him alive.
There was a large plaza across from the building with a well in the center of it, and Marak raced towards it. There were soldiers pouring out of buildings everywhere he looked. Marak stopped in the center of the plaza and leaned his sword against the well. He stood with his naked hands in plain view as soldiers poured out of the headquarters building.
None of the soldiers were in a hurry to attack Marak. In fact, none of them entered the plaza. They surrounded the plaza and drew their swords, waiting for the command to attack. The Torak turned slowly as he memorized the position of the groups surrounding him. Marak heard loud arguing coming from the headquarters building, and he tried to hear what was being said. A moment later, two men emerged from the building. One was an officer, and the other was the black-cloaked mage.
“Because we must know how he got here,” yelled the mage. “Have you no sense at all? Duran is supposed to be inaccessible from the land. Do you see any boats in the harbor?”
“My men are quite capable of attacking and defeating him without killing him,” argued the officer. “All you had to do was ask properly. You do not give orders to my men. I do.”
Suddenly, the air rippled in front of the mage. One moment the mage was opening his mouth to yell at the officer, the next moment his head exploded in a fine red mist. The Torak was surprised by Lyra’s spell, but he did not need to wait for an invitation to join the battle. He immediately tossed a ball of light at the soldiers crowded at the front of the building. The ball of light instantly flattened, and blades of light grew out of it as it sailed into the group of men. The blades sliced into the men, body parts flying through the air.
Marak swiveled to strike another group to his right, but they were already dead, their charred bodies sending spirals of smoke into the air. The whole plaza had erupted with confusion. The Torak turned rapidly to search for the other large group that had been behind him, but the soldiers were running away from the plaza. As Marak continued his turn, he saw the reason for the soldiers running away.
Myka soared overhead, a Motangan soldier screaming in each claw. Fire spit out of her snout in a long searing streak. On the dragon’s back, Lyra was tossing fireballs with one hand and force bolts with the other.
“Grab your sword, Torak,” taunted Myka as she dropped the bodies of the Motangan soldiers. “You will miss all the fun if you just stand there. Flush them out for me.”
The dragon flew after a large group of Motangans that were heading for the sea. Marak grabbed his sword as he saw two Motangans duck into the blacksmith shop. He ran after them.
For the next two hours, the Torak methodically checked every building in the city while Lyra and Myka hovered overhead. A few of the soldiers put up a fight when discovered in their hiding places, but most of them tried to run away. Lyra and Myka caught them all.
When the last building was checked, Marak returned to the plaza and sat with his back to the well. He was cleaning his sword when Myka landed, and Lyra slid off of the dragon’s back.
“What an amazing creature,” Lyra said as she sat down next to Marak. “Are you alright?”
“I am fine,” nodded Marak. “The two of you were great today. I don’t mind telling you that I had my doubts about coming here while I was in the plaza surrounded by the Motangans. There was certainly more than a corte of troops here.”
“This was just practice,” snorted Myka. “Sort of like playing hide the Motangan. In a real battle you don’t get to eliminate the enemy in small groups.”
“I will keep that in mind,” Marak replied dryly.
“I felt indestructible up there today,” grinned Lyra. “What a way to fight the enemy!”
“There was only one mage against you today,” warned Marak, “and no archers. Do not ever feel indestructible. There is no such thing.”
“The blue cylinder spell protects me completely,” countered Lyra. “I know of nothing that can penetrate it.”
“Who knows what another mage can do?” shrugged the Torak. “Besides, you cannot hold that spell forever.”
“What is bothering you, Marak,” frowned Lyra. “Is it that Myka and I killed more Motangans than you?”
“No,” sighed the Torak. “You two did great. I wouldn’t have survived today without both of you. I think that is what is bothering me. Halman and Gunta have become quite angry with me since I have been riding Myka. They feel that I am exposing myself too much without them around to protect me.”
“And they think I am incapable of protecting you?” snorted Myka. “Ridiculous.”
“That’s not the point, Myka,” replied Lyra. “I know what Marak is talking about. My people are the same. They constantly offer up their own lives to protect me. That is quite a sacrifice for anyone to make, and it hurts when they find out that it is not needed.”
“But those two always protect the Torak,” frowned Myka. “They are even called his shadows, but must they be with him every minute?”
“They worry for his safety as a mother worries for her child,” explained Lyra. “Can you imagine that, Myka?”
Myka did not reply, and Lyra turned to look at the dragon. Tears were clearly visible in Myka’s eyes, and Lyra bit her lower lip with anguish. She had not imagined that Myka might have been a mother, but it was clear from her reaction that she had been.
“I am sorry, Myka,” Lyra said softly. “I didn’t know. What happened?”
“I am going to check on the fishermen,” Myka said abruptly. “I will be back soon.”
The dragon leaped into the air and flew out to sea.
“She lost a child?” asked Marak.
“Apparently so,” nodded Lyra. “The hurt is still strong enough that she does not wish to discuss it.”
“I am sorry for my attitude,” apologized the Torak. “I am glad that you demanded to come today, otherwise I might really have made Halman and Gunta unhappy.”
“So you felt vulnerable today?” asked Lyra. “Is that it? Because if that is all that it is, it was a great day indeed. We both must remember the feeling of vulnerability. Kaltara may favor us, but we are not Kaltara. We must never forget that. Any of us can die at any moment, even though we are asked not to fear death.”
“It is not death that scares me,” replied the Torak. “It is the prospect of leaving my work undone. Still, I cannot afford to become too cautious. What Kaltara expects of me will require me to risk my life many times before this is done. I have come to terms with that.”
“You have done well so far,” smiled Lyra. “Without your efforts, none of us would have been ready for this invasion. Keep doing what you have been doing. It will all work out.”
“We are hardly ready for the invasion,” replied Marak. “We are better prepared than we were before, but we know so little about the Motangans.”
“True,” nodded Lyra. “What are we to do about Duran? I mean after we steal their supplies? Won’t they just bring more supplies in here?”
“They might,” Marak answered, “but I have planned a surprise for them. I have brought poison with me. Whatever your fishermen do not take, we will poison.”
“Clever,” nodded Lyra. “The Motangans will soon learn to be suspicious of everything. StarWind arranged to leave barrels of ale in Alamar when we retreated. It is no small wonder that the Motangans did not chase us last night.”
“That was smart,” chuckled Emperor Marak. “You have good people, Lyra. Look, Myka is returning. The fishermen can not be too far off.”
“We do not have to wait here for the ships to arrive,” offered the Star of Sakova. “Those ships are huge. Myka would have no problem landing on one.”
“That suits me well,” nodded the Torak. “Time is valuable right now. The invasion fleets are on their way to Khadora and Fakara. I need to talk to your skimmer pilot to find out what happened with Doralin’s fleet and then I will return you to Breele.”
“Return me to the edge of the Sakovan heartland,” replied Lyra. “We expected the Motangans to attack at dawn. My people will not put up much of a fight until we are in the forests. For now we will retreat each time they engage us.”
* * *
“We can rest here,” declared StarWind as they reached the crest of a small hill. “We do not want to lose the Motangans.”
The Sakovans dismounted and immediately started to set up a temporary camp. Campfires were started and sentries were selected, although there was little need for sentries. The terrain west of Breele was mostly meadows and gradually rose in elevation as one got closer to the heartland. From their current vantage point, the Sakovans could see the Motangan vanguard in the distance. The sea of red uniforms stretched out as far as the Sakovans could see.
“They must know that we are baiting them,” HawkShadow said to StarWind. “Every time we get some ground between us, we start up the fires and have a meal, and they keep marching until they reach us. They are not fools.”
“I do not take them for fools, HawkShadow,” replied the spymaster. “Yes, they know that we are baiting them, but it doesn’t matter to them. They will keep coming after us until we are all dead. They do not need to hurry.”
“But we are mounted,” frowned HawkShadow, “and they are not. We could run rings around them. How do they ever plan to catch us?”
“I am sure that they have strategies worked out for that,” replied StarWind, “but I will not pretend to know what they are. I can make guesses though. They have many more men than we do. They can afford to spread out as they pursue us. They can also break off armies that will not be seen by us, because we are watching this big red horde out there. Sure, we have speed on them, but where are we going to go? They plan to conquer the entire landmass. There will be no hiding place for us.”
“StarWind is right,” interjected General Didyk. “They can slowly follow us to the west coast, or the south coast, or the Kalatung Mountains, but they will eventually surround us and kill us. Even if we cross the mountains into Khadora, they will follow us. Worse, their armies in Khadora will probably be waiting for us.”
“But we can continually attack them and run,” argued HawkShadow.
“We can,” agreed General Didyk, “and I suspect that they expect us to do just that. They look forward to each and every encounter with us, whether it is initiated by them or us. That is the strategy for fighting when you have such vast numerical superiority. They can easily afford to trade us man for man. They will still have a huge army left when we are all dead.”
“I have no intention of trading warriors with them,” scoffed HawkShadow. “At least not on an even basis. We will hit and run, but the results will not be to their liking.”
“On that we agree,” grinned StarWind. “Come sit with me and go over this map, HawkShadow. You know the heartland better than anyone alive. Give me your ideas on where we should stage our actions.”
General Didyk left the couple and strode across the makeshift campsite. He saw a small group of Sakovans sitting quietly and approached them.
“I heard about the loss of your friend, SilverEdge,” the general said. “I wanted to let you know that I share your grief of his loss. Not too long ago, we were enemies, but I have grown to admire you people. I heard about your heroic stand in Alamar to make sure that the mages and General Manitow got out safely. You have earned the respect of me and my men.”
“Thank you, General,” nodded Goral as Didyk walked away.
“One would think that defeating him in war would have already earned his respect,” snapped SkyDancer.
“That is uncalled for,” chided DarkBlade. “While he may not have known SilverEdge personally, I think his sorrow was genuine.”
“Many Imperial Guards also died in Alamar,” added StormSong. “Have you told their friends how sorry you are for their loss?”
“I didn’t ask for his sorrow,” spat SkyDancer as she rose and stormed off.
“What is wrong with her?” frowned StormSong. “You would think that the Omungans are still our enemies by her attitude.”
“She fears losing those who are close to her,” shrugged DarkBlade.
“Don’t we all?” asked StormSong. “We all loved SilverEdge. Why is her burden so much greater than ours?”
“It is more than the loss of SilverEdge that bothers her,” Goral said softly. “She mourns for the future losses as well as the past.”
StormSong frowned at Goral and shook her head. “Now I know why you don’t talk much, Goral,” she said. “When you do open your mouth, nothing understandable comes out.”
Goral shrugged but did not reply. StormSong sighed with exasperation and strode off towards the campfire. DarkBlade sat next to Goral and began to sharpen his sword.
“What did you mean by that, Goral?” he asked. “What exactly does SkyDancer fear?”
“SkyDancer is in love,” Goral said softly. “SilverEdge’s death showed her just how fragile life is these days. She fears losing the object of her love to this war. That makes her hate this war very much.”
“She thinks that HawkShadow is going to die?” questioned DarkBlade.
“What do I know?” replied the giant. “You should ask SkyDancer about her feelings.”
“I know you well enough, Goral,” chuckled DarkBlade. “I don’t buy the stupid giant routine at all. Others may think that you are slow, and you may enjoy them thinking that, but I know better. Does she think that HawkShadow is going to die?”
“She fears losing HawkShadow,” nodded Goral, “whether it is through death or some other means does not make much of a difference to her. The end result is the same.”
“We all may die before this over,” shrugged DarkBlade. “If she truly feels that strongly about HawkShadow, she should be spending every single moment with him while they are both alive.”
“She would not argue that point with you,” replied Goral. “Nor would I. When they are together is the only time that she smiles.”
“Where is HawkShadow?” asked DarkBlade. “I know I saw him earlier today.”
Goral nodded towards the spot where the assassin sat reading the map with StarWind. DarkBlade saw the couple sitting and frowned. Without a word to Goral, DarkBlade turned and strode over to HawkShadow.
“Tayo, HawkShadow,” said DarkBlade. “I think SkyDancer was looking for you.”
“Tayo, DarkBlade,” HawkShadow replied, tearing his eyes away from the map only for a second before returning to it. “Could you tell her where I am?”
“I think she knows where you are,” replied DarkBlade.
HawkShadow frowned in confusion, but StarWind nodded knowingly.
“I think that I have enough to dwell on, HawkShadow” smiled StarWind as she rose and started folding up the map. “Why don’t you go rest and enjoy our short stop while you can.”
“I would rather finish our discussion,” protested HawkShadow.
“Another time,” StarWind said definitively as she turned and walked away.
HawkShadow turned and frowned at DarkBlade. “Did I say something wrong to her?” he asked. “Her leaving was rather abrupt.”
“No,” DarkBlade sighed as he shook his head. “You said nothing wrong. Why don’t you go and find SkyDancer. She is feeling pretty low right now. I think you could cheer her up.”
“I imagine that she is dwelling on SilverEdge’s death,” frowned HawkShadow. “She liked him a great deal. His death must hurt her quite a bit.”
“Something like that,” replied DarkBlade. “Losing you would hurt her a lot more. Go and spend some time with her.”
HawkShadow nodded and strode off. A feeling of satisfaction filled DarkBlade as he watched the assassin walk away.
“You should not have done that,” came a voice from behind DarkBlade.
DarkBlade whirled to see MistyTrail standing behind him. “Why not?” he asked. “She needs him right now. She loves him.”
“You do not understand HawkShadow as I do,” frowned MistyTrail. “You may just have endangered his life.”
“What?” balked DarkBlade. “What a nonsensical thing to say. By telling him that SkyDancer loves him? Surely, he must already know that?”
“He knows that she loves him,” nodded MistyTrail. “She has said so to him, but he does not feel the same towards her. He likes her a great deal, but his heart belongs to another.”
“Who?” asked DarkBlade.
“That does not matter,” replied MistyTrail. “Like SkyDancer, HawkShadow’s love is not returned by the woman he loves.”
“Then he should tell SkyDancer the truth and let her deal with it,” retorted DarkBlade.
“She is incapable of dealing with it,” countered MistyTrail. “That is why HawkShadow says nothing. He will not lie to her, yet he will not destroy her with the truth either.”
“Well,” shrugged DarkBlade, “that is his prerogative, but I don’t see how that endangers his life.”
“No,” replied MistyTrail, “the mention of love does not endanger him, but your insistence that she needs him does. It tells HawkShadow that SkyDancer has become unstable. He can handle her love of him, but he also is responsible for sending her on missions. Now he must second-guess every assignment that he gives her. Few know HawkShadow as I do. I spent years with him as my tutor. I know him well.”
“Which means what?” asked DarkBlade.
“Which means that HawkShadow will try to do her work as well as his own to protect her,” answered MistyTrail. “He could not bear the responsibility of her death if he sent her on a mission that she was incapable of handling, and in her state of mind, that would be any mission that he gave her.”
“Then he should talk to Lyra,” frowned DarkBlade. “Get her removed from working under him. You could take her place. You just said that he tutored you for years.”
“My time in the Sakova is at an end,” MistyTrail said. “I must return to Elvangar. In fact, I am hoping to meet Myka when she returns with the Star of Sakova. She could take me home.”
“Then I will speak to Lyra,” decided DarkBlade. “I did not mean to cause trouble. I was only trying to help.”
“I understand,” MistyTrail smiled tautly. “Talk to Lyra about it. I am sure she will understand.”