Dark shadows flitted in the dim light as the elves stealthily entered the city of Teramar. Princess Alahara gazed skyward to approximate the time and nodded in approval.
“If everything is going this smoothly at Sudamar and Eldamar,” Tamar said softly, “all three cities will be taken without anyone else on the island knowing about it.”
“That is the goal,” Princess Alahara responded, “but let’s not get overly confident. It only takes one mage to get the word of this invasion to Vandamar.”
Calitora had been following the elven princess and had heard the short conversation. He nodded approvingly at Alahara’s caution as he turned away from the elves and sought shadows of his own. The Chula shaman moved on an erratic path through the sleeping city. His task was to find any stray Motangan soldiers and eliminate them. He moved swiftly, but silently through the alleyways of the city, looking for any late night pedestrians.
Calitora knew the elven plan of attack well, and he was not distracted by moving shadows far above him. He knew that elven archers would control the rooftops. Instead he focused on the streets and alleyways, his eyes scanning into the darkness looking for any signs of movement.
A large alley cat darted out of a dark corner, frightened by the human presence. Calitora smiled sympathetically as the cat dashed into another alley. The shaman zigzagged through the city, constantly closing in on the city’s center where the elves were climbing to the roof of the temple. He halted briefly outside a window when he heard a noise, but he moved on again when he determined that it was merely the sounds of a fitful sleeper.
Eventually he reached the area of the city that allowed him an unobstructed view of the front of the temple. Hidden in the shadows, Calitora peered out at the two sentries standing guard outside the front doors of the temple. The Motangans were relaxed, almost lethargic in their boring duty. Calitora was about to move onward, swinging wide around the temple in his continuing search for stray soldiers, when something caught his attention. His eyes were drawn upward to a small balcony on the second level of the temple. The balcony was on the side of the temple, and Calitora did not have a good view of it, but he was sure that he had detected movement there.
The Chula shaman swiftly backed away from the front of the temple and raced to a position where he could better observe the balcony. Hoping that the figure had been one of the elven attackers, Calitora maintained his stealth for fear of alarming the enemy. When he approached the temple from a different angle, the shaman could clearly see the black shape on the balcony. His heart raced as he saw the Motangan mage. The Motangan’s lips were moving, and Calitora knew that the secrecy of the invasion was lost. Somehow a mage had escaped Princess Alahara’s assassination squads, yet no alarm had been sounded. Calitora glanced back at the sentries in front of the temple and saw no cause for alarm. The Motangan mage was trying to hide from the assassins and still get a message off to Vandamar.
The Chula shaman could not attack the Motangan mage without alerting the sentries, at least not from his current position. There was a wide-open area between him and the temple. He could not cross the open area without being noticed. Making a spontaneous decision, Calitora transformed into a cat and raced towards the side of the temple. His mind worked feverously as he tried to figure out how he could transform into a human again and attack the mage without getting killed. The shaman knew he would be extremely vulnerable during, and immediately after, his transformation. That vulnerability could cost him his life.
The sentries at the front of the temple saw the cat racing across the open area. They noted it with disinterest, and Calitora made the safety of the side of the temple without incident. He continued running until he was directly under the balcony, the only safe place for him to transform. As Calitora was assuming a human shape, he heard a shout from above him. Having finished his report to Vandamar, the Motangan mage was shouting an alarm to rouse the soldiers of the city.
Berating himself for being too slow to act, Calitora leaped away from the side of the palace and sent a light blade streaking upward. He immediately followed the spell with another. The first light blade tore into the balcony holding the Motangan mage, shredding the supports of the balcony, and the building’s appendage began to crumble and fall. The second blade of light ripped through the railing and shredded the Motangan mage. Calitora dove and rolled away as the wreckage tumbled to the ground.
As the Chula shaman rolled to his feet, he heard hundreds of voices shouting from the nearby barracks compound. He turned and saw the Motangan soldiers streaming out of the barracks, their voices raised in alarm. He watched dispassionately as the elven archers slaughtered the Motangan soldiers. Putting the carnage out of his mind, Calitora raced to the front of the temple. Princess Alahara’s forces had already killed the two sentries, and the princess stood on the front steps staring at the battle raging near the barracks. Calitora halted in front of the princess.
“Word has already gotten out about the invasion,” Calitora reported. “There was a mage on the balcony of the temple. I am sure that he used an air tunnel before shouting an alarm. I could not silence him in time. I am sorry.”
“Do not be hard on yourself, Calitora,” the Princess Alahara smiled compassionately. “We noticed the empty bed during our search, but time was against us. I suspect that each city is supposed to have a mage available at all times to communicate with Vandamar. The loss is the Motangans’. Taking the city without unnecessary bloodshed would have been nice, but our goal is to conquer this island. We are doing that.”
“Let’s hope that King Avalar in Eldamar and Princess Alastasia in Sudamar were more successful than we were,” interjected Tamar.
“We will know soon,” replied the princess as she gazed upward at the night sky. “We are due to talk soon.”
“How can you do that?” frowned the shaman. “The air tunnel requires knowledge of a place before it can be used.”
“Not always,” smiled Princess Alahara. “Within the hour, we will communicate from the roofs of the three temples and make our plans for moving northward. Each of us will weave an air tunnel to Elvangar. Mages there will connect the three air tunnels and allow us to talk.”
“What trouble will the sounding of the alarm cause us?” asked Tamar.
“I am not sure,” frowned the princess. “The three southern cities only host three thousand men each. Vandamar is much more fortified. There are over thirty thousand Motangan soldiers in Vandamar, and the element of surprise will not be on our side. A great many elves may die to liberate this island.”
“Perhaps we should wait for the rest of our armies to arrive?” suggested Tamar. “Our ships should be returning home by now.”
“Those armies are bound elsewhere,” Princess Alahara shook her head. “It is up to us to free our people from this bondage.”
“They have ten times our numbers,” frowned Tamar. “While I would willingly pit elven archers against any foe, do not expect miracles from them.”
“I do expect miracles,” Princess Alahara smiled tautly, “and you will learn to believe in them, too. Let’s go to the roof of the temple and prepare to find out how the others have done.”
* * *
Lightning flashed incessantly across the sky, illuminating the huge voluminous clouds that were producing the torrent of rain pelting down on the Sakovan heartland. Great claps of thunder roared continuously, masking out all other sounds in the Motangan encampment. HawkShadow knelt not far from the sentries guarding the perimeter of the encampment. His hair was soaked and matted to his head. His clothes were as wet as if he were kneeling in a stream, but he ignored it all. He remained motionless, an arrow nocked, his eyes focused on an unseen sentry, waiting for the lightning to illuminate him once again.
The Sakovan assassin did not have long to wait. A brilliant flash of lightning crackled overhead, bringing the brilliance of daylight into the dark of night. The flash only lasted for a second and then was gone, the blackness returning to rule the night, but HawkShadow closed his eyes, the image of the briefly illuminated sentry burned into his retinas. He raised his bow and fired at the false image. He tried to listen for the scream of his enemy, but the thunder made that impossible. The assassin knew that even the closest sentry to the victim would not hear the scream through nature’s din. HawkShadow waited for the next flash of lightning to confirm his kill before moving further along the perimeter of the Motangan encampment.
After his sixth confirmed kill, the Sakovan assassin broke away from the perimeter and headed deeper into the woods. StarWind and Goral saw him coming and met him before he was far into the clearing.
“How did it go?” asked StarWind.
“As it should have,” smiled HawkShadow. “All six are confirmed kills. Send in Goral’s people.”
“So we shall,” nodded the Sakovan spymaster. “Where do you want my people? Should I stay and protect Goral’s retreat?”
“Move onward,” interjected Goral. “Let us not waste time tonight. This storm will not last forever.”
“Goral is right,” nodded HawkShadow. “This storm is perfect cover for what we intend to do. Move your people to the opposite side of the encampment. That is where I will take out the next six sentries. Goral, when you disengage, take your people halfway around to the right. I will hurry there when I am done with StarWind’s sentries.”
“We will be there,” promised the Sakovan giant as he withdrew from the impromptu meeting.
Goral strode over to his waiting warriors, two-dozen Sakovan marauders hand-picked for the dangerous assignment. Goral nodded silently to his people who promptly mounted their chokas.
“Remember that this is only a raid,” Goral cautioned softly. “Keep an eye on me at all times. When I start to disengage, abandon the battle as soon as you can do so safely. I will linger near the perimeter to aid anyone caught in the thick of it. The rest of you continue into the forest. Understood?”
A chorus of nods and murmurs of agreement rippled through the warriors. Goral mounted Bertha and led the small group out of the clearing. They moved with little regard to noise as the chokas were fairly silent beasts, and thunder still rolled through the night air. As they approached the perimeter where HawkShadow had eliminated the sentries, Goral slowed and signaled his warriors to stop. The giant rode slowly forward until he could see the encampment during the lightning flashes. He smiled in appreciation of the assassin’s skills. Pulling a huge maul from its holder, Goral raised the maul high overhead and pointed towards the encampment. His warriors pulled their weapons and nodded to their leader.
Goral nudged Bertha, and the large warbird raced towards the enemy. The giant looked briefly over his shoulder to make sure that his warriors were following and then concentrated on the Motangan encampment. He smiled briefly as he raced past the bodies of the sentries, but the distraction was only momentary. His eyes used the flashes of lightning to memorize the placement of the nearest Motangan tents. The encampment was devoid of pedestrians as the deluge continued to rain down out of the angry clouds.
Goral held the large maul out with one hand as he approached the first tent. He smashed the supports of the tent as he rode by, his eyes already fixed on a tent deeper in the encampment. He smashed the supports of two more tents while guiding Bertha towards his target, which was at the limit of the depth of the planned incursion. The choka unflinchingly used her sharp claws to tear through the fabric of the chosen tent. Momentarily out of the rain, Goral grinned broadly as he entered the tent occupied by eight Motangan soldiers. Bertha immediately tore into the flesh of a sleeping Motangan, bringing hysterical screams from her victim. The other soldiers awoke and tried to scramble to their feet, but Goral’s maul was already in action.
Goral and Bertha worked as a finely honed team. While she tore into soldiers on one side of the tent, Goral’s maul hammered away at those on the other side. Within seconds the tent was devoid of Motangan life. Goral urged Bertha through the torn fabric and immediately aimed for another tent. After the Sakovan giant and his warbird had destroyed three tents and their inhabitants, he heard an alarm shouted between claps of thunder. It was time to withdraw. He whistled loudly and headed towards the perimeter. Hesitating at the edge of the encampment, Goral counted his fleeing warriors. When the last of his people had passed by, Goral tapped Bertha into a gallop and raced after his warriors. He heard the sounds of bowstrings snapping during the lull between thunderclaps, but nothing came close to him.
Goral passed his men, ordering them to follow him. They rode hard until they reached the area where HawkShadow would find them. Goral ordered his team to dismount and held a quick meeting to assess the damage to the enemy. Over six hundred Motangans had died in the brief fight, and not a single Sakovan had been injured. Goral grinned broadly and congratulated his warriors. He bowed his head in prayer and prayed that StarWind’s team was having equal success on the other side of the Motangan encampment.
* * *
“The elves are attacking Teramar and Eldamar,” Xavo said as he tried to catch his breath from running all the way to the beach from the temple.
“Escapees?” asked Lady Mystic.
“No,” Xavo shook his head. “It is an invasion from Elvangar. “Estimates from both cities put the elves at one thousand for each city.”
“But the garrisons in each of those cities are at least three thousand strong,” frowned Lady Mystic. “The elves will be slaughtered.”
“That is not what is being reported,” Xavo shook his head. “It sounds as if Teramar and Eldamar have already fallen. The attack caught the Motangans sleeping in the barracks. The elves also managed to get into the temple undetected. In each case only the lone surviving mage sent the message.”
“What about Sudamar?” asked Lady Mystic. “Is that also under attack?”
“We don’t know,” replied Xavo. “There was no answer when the mages tried to reach Sudamar. The generals suspect that it might have also fallen. They are in a panic. They expect an attack here in Vandamar at any moment.”
“Bah,” snorted Lady Mystic. “There are thirty thousand troops in this city. Three thousand elves will not attempt such a thing.”
“The generals think a much larger force is heading this way,” replied Xavo. “They have sent out scout ships towards Elvangar with mages aboard.”
“They know where Elvangar is?” frowned Lady Mystic. “Why was I not informed?”
“They don’t actually know where it is,” replied Xavo, “but it is known to be to the east. That is why the southeastern city is named Eldamar. It was the port nearest the elves.”
“What should we do?” worried Lady Mystic. “We shouldn’t let the elves stumble into a trap. They probably have no idea how many soldiers are here in Vandamar.”
“I thought we should tell Emperor Marak what we know,” shrugged Xavo. “I am no battle-hardened general, but I am willing to do whatever I can to help the elves, although I doubt that I can make much of a difference.”
“You underestimate yourself,” grinned Lady Mystic. “As Vand’s disciple, you are the most senior person left in Vandamar. You can override the generals’ plans and cause great havoc.”
“I may technically be the most senior person here,” frowned Xavo, “but that is not what Vand meant to have happen. I was supposed to go with him to Fakara. I doubt that the generals will listen to me. Vand has probably already told them that I am not to be trusted once he realized that I missed the boat.”
“I doubt that Vand even knows that you have missed the boat,” mused Lady Mystic. “He will not be holding court over there like he did here. He is in the land of his enemy. He will keep himself surrounded by only those he trusts dearly. Everyone else will have to go through Premer Tzargo to get a message to Vand.”
“But the mages here would surely keep him informed of what is happening in Vandamar,” countered Xavo. “If he hears my name, he will be incensed.”
“No doubt he would be,” nodded Vand’s daughter. “Well, we must make sure that no word gets to him then.”
“Impossible,” retorted Xavo. “There must be a thousand mages still in Vandamar. Any one of them is capable of sending a message to Vand.”
“Then we must eliminate a thousand mages,” shrugged Lady Mystic, “and we must do it quickly.”
Xavo’s jaw dropped as he stared at Lady Mystic. For several long moments he stared as if he thought his lover had gone insane.
“You can’t be serious,” he finally said. “Such a plan is suicidal, even if it was possible. I am willing to give my life to help my daughter and her people, but I will not give yours.”
“I have no wish to remain behind when you leave this world,” Lady Mystic replied with a smile. “While I have not learned to appreciate your daughter’s people as you have, I know what evil my father is. I will do anything to stop him.”
“But a thousand mages?” balked Xavo. “It is impossible. Even our combined talents will not be enough to overwhelm such a group. There are many talented mages left in the city. Some of them even approach our skills. It is just impossible.”
“So it would seem,” shrugged Lady Mystic, “but it must be done. Not only that, but we must then deal with the generals. If we fail, the elves will surely perish. Are you willing to allow that to happen?”
“No,” Xavo sighed heavily. “This madness must be stopped. I will contact the Torak and see what he can suggest.”
“You trust Marak, don’t you?” asked Lady Mystic.
“Very much so,” nodded Xavo. “He is a clever man, and one can tell that his heart is in the right place. He showed me what a fool I was after my wife died, and he has impressed me ever since.”
“Then contact him immediately,” advised Lady Mystic. “We do not have time to waste.”
Xavo nodded and wove an air tunnel to Khadoratung.
* * *
The large room at the rear of the temple was filled with black cloaks. Some of the Motangan mages looked perplexed; others were merely curious. A few hosted skeptical glares as Xavo entered the large room and called for quiet. Vand’s disciple let his eyes rove over the assembled crowd without a hint of the nervousness that he held inside himself.
“I have had a coded communique from Vandegar,” Xavo announced. “The situation here on Motanga is extremely serious, but there is worse news. The enemy has found a way to intercept our messages when we use air tunnels. Even worse, the enemy has been forging messages and sending them to Vand. The messages appear to originate from here, but they always contain information meant to deceive our people. The Emperor has commanded that we temporarily halt the use of air tunnels to him so that he can discover who is trying to deceive him. He will only accept messages from one of two people, and those messages will be encoded.”
“What two people?” scowled one of the senior mages.
“Myself,” answered Xavo, “and Vand’s daughter, Lady Mystic.”
“I thought Lady Mystic was rebuked?” retorted the senior mage.
“You are correct,” nodded Xavo, “but Vand has changed his mind. Do you wish to argue with him?”
The senior mage frowned, but he did not speak. Xavo continued with his speech.
“It is believed that the elves utilized false air tunnel messages to take over the three southern cities,” declared Xavo. “Vand also believes that a huge army of elves is currently heading towards Vandamar.”
“We will be ready for them,” shouted a mage in the back of the room. “With thirty thousand soldiers and a thousand mages, we could conquer Elvangar, wherever it is.”
“A bold statement,” frowned Xavo, “but the elves are not interested in defeating our armies.”
“What do you mean?” questioned the senior mage. “Why else would they attack Motanga?”
“To kill you,” Xavo answered as he stared at the questioning mage. “The reports coming out of the southern cities indicate that the targets of the elves were the mages housed in the temples. I suspect that that will be true in Vandamar as well. They will avoid our thirty thousand men if they can, but they want to annihilate every mage in Motanga. Our knowledge of air tunnels is the gravest threat to their existence. They will sacrifice whatever they must to see us all dead.”
“Let them try,” sneered one of the mages. “They will be sorry to have misjudged us.”
“Indeed they will be sorry,” Xavo grinned as his eyes passed over the mages. “Vand has developed a plan to crush the elves completely. It requires your immediate action and without delay.”
“What is this plan?” asked one of the black cloaks.
“All of you are to board a ship within the hour,” explained Xavo. “Take nothing with you. The temple is to appear as if you are still in residence.”
“You want the elves to attack the temple thinking that we are still inside it?” asked one of the mages.
“Exactly,” nodded Xavo. “Once the elves commit themselves to the attack, you will be brought to land to attack them from behind. You,” Xavo said authoritatively as he pointed at the senior mage who had been asking all of the questions, “are to organize the elements of the attack. I would suggest five groups of two hundred mages each, but the choice will be yours.”
The chosen mage swelled with pride and immediately lost his skeptical glower. “Do we expect the elves to attack by sea or by land?” he asked.
“While we cannot be sure,” Xavo smiled inwardly, “I suspect that it will be a combination of the two. I think their land forces will be meant to distract and engage our military forces while the bulk of the attackers arrive by the sea. Your ship will be around the western edge of the jungle. They should not be able to see it when they approach.”
“And how will we know when the time has come for us to attack?” asked the mage. “You have already ruled out the use of air tunnels.”
“Either Lady Mystic or I will go to the beach and signal the captain of your ship,” explained Xavo. “The two of us will be remaining on land to spy on the elven movements.”
The senior mage smiled and nodded. Xavo spent a few more minutes answering questions that were easily handled then he ordered the assembled mages to head immediately for the docks where a huge troop transport was waiting for them. It took an hour for the ship to load and sail out of the harbor.
“How did it go?” asked Lady Mystic when Xavo returned to their secret cove.
“Much easier than I expected,” smiled Xavo. “Now we have to deal with the generals. I hope Marak’s plan works as well as he thinks it will.”