The men gathered in a large rectangular room in the palace at Angragar. Maps and charts were spread over the large table and tensions were high.
“Why would the Motangans pass up a chance to pursue our warriors?” asked Yojji, leader of the Kheri tribe. “They have chased us every time in the past.”
“Maybe they are getting wise?” suggested Adger, leader of the Mutang tribe. “It does not take much more intelligence than that of a wasooki to learn that they lose men each time they chase us.”
“I don’t know the reason,” sighed Blaka, leader of the Extala tribe. “I am only reporting what I have observed. The last half dozen attempts at luring the Motangans away from their march have failed. Oh, they defended themselves, but they showed no interest in chasing us. When we retreated, they continued following the north branch of the Meliban River.”
“Almost as if they knew their destination?” frowned Bakhai. “Is that what you are saying?”
“That is certainly one reason to explain such behavior,” shrugged Blaka, “but I have no way of knowing for sure.”
“Must you draw them away from the river to attack them?” asked Bakhai.
“Our men are horsemen,” interjected Wyant, the sheriff of Fakara. “Our method of fighting is to sweep down on the enemy in large numbers and smash the defenders. We leave just as quickly. Fakarans are no match for the Motangans if we dismount and hide behind trees. We need the enemy in the open.”
“Yet not so open that they can see us coming,” nodded Rejji. “Our best fighting so far has been at night when their visibility is limited, but those days are over. To defeat the Motangans in the forests and mountains, we must adapt new tactics.”
“New tactics?” balked Yojji. “You expect the tribes to change the way we have fought for a thousand years?”
“If you want to survive,” Rejji spoke slowly and clearly, “yes. The tribes developed their method of fighting because it suited the terrain. The enemy is no longer on the plains. They are in thick forests, and soon they will be climbing the mountains.”
“Until they descend out of the mountains on this side,” Adger pointed out. “Then they will be back in our kind of terrain.”
“True,” nodded Wyant, “but do you want to face two hundred and fifty thousand Motangans so close to Angragar? They must never be allowed to attack this city.”
“Wyant is correct,” agreed Rejji. “That many Motangans that close to Angragar is a disaster for us. We need to cut down their numbers before they cross the mountains.”
“What about the Valley of Bones?” asked Mobi, a Qubari tribesman “It was used effectively against Grulak and his men.”
“The Valley of Bones is not large enough to accommodate the Motangan army,” Wyant shook his head. “We trapped twenty thousand of Grulak’s men and caused the others to throw down their weapons and go home. The Motangans will not throw down their weapons and leave.”
“They mean to kill all of us,” agreed Rejji. “We can use the Valley of Bones to trim some of their numbers, but not significantly. Cardijja can afford to throw away twenty thousand men while Grulak could not.”
The room fell silent for a moment as the leaders of the free tribes tried to think of a way to battle the Motangans effectively. Yltar, the head shaman of the Qubari people eased his way to the table and stared at the map.
“We are neglecting the most important questions of all,” Yltar said softly. “Where are the Motangans heading, and how did they learn of their destination?”
“You think they are heading for Angragar?” questioned Rejji.
“They could just be following the river,” shrugged Yltar, “but then why not engage Fakarans where they found them? I believe they have a destination in mind and are anxious to reach it.”
“The only destination that would interest them is Angragar,” frowned Wyant.
“Then how did they learn of its location?” prompted Yltar.
“Why is that important?” puzzled Yojji. “If they know the location of Angragar, who cares how they found out?”
“Because Yltar thinks that they do not really know the location,” interjected Bakhai.
The shaman turned and grinned at the Astor’s brother. “You will make a fine Head Shaman one day,” he said to Bakhai. “You understand the importance of questioning all things.”
“Let me be the first to admit,” frowned Wyant, “that I have no idea what you two are talking about. Explain it so that Fakaran tribesmen can understand.”
“Let’s suppose that Cardijja thinks he knows where Angragar is,” explained Yltar. “He is moving his massive army as fast as he can towards that goal. He ignores the prods and jabs we inflict on his forces and continues to press onward.”
“That pretty much explains the behavior of his army right now,” nodded Blaka.
“Now let’s suppose that Cardijja’s information is wrong,” smiled the shaman. “Or maybe the information is merely too generalized to actually help him find his goal. Perhaps he knows that Angragar is somewhere east of the mountains and he is pushing to cross them before he engages us.”
“Are you saying that we can still mislead him after he crosses the mountains?” asked Rejji.
“Perhaps,” shrugged Yltar. “That depends upon where Cardijja received his information. If he only knows the general location of Angragar, he will once again actively engage the tribes after he crosses the mountains. He will try to chase them to see which way they go.”
“That could work to our advantage,” brightened Yojji. “We would have his armies between us and the mountains. That is a fight that the tribes would welcome.”
“Unless he truly knows where Angragar is,” frowned Rejji. “We cannot afford to wait to find out where he is heading.”
“Correct,” nodded Yltar. “Which is why we must find out what Cardijja knows.”
“And how are we going to find that out?” scowled Blaka. “Do we just send one of us down to ask him?”
The Qubari shaman did not answer. He turned and stared at Bakhai. Bakhai’s eyes opened wide in confusion as the shaman stared at him, but he finally understood what was expected of him. He inhaled deeply and nodded.
“I will go,” Bakhai announced.
The leaders of the free tribes gasped at Bakhai’s offer, but Rejji walked over to his brother and put his arm around him.
“I will send somebody with you,” whispered Rejji. “Do nothing foolish, but find out where Cardijja is heading.”
* * *
Lady Mystic and Xavo entered the harbor of Meliban. Motangan soldiers immediately began to converge on the docks with a few black cloaks taking the lead. Lady Mystic hastily wove an air tunnel and directed it towards the black cloaks. She announced who they were and nothing more before dropping the air tunnel. When they approached the dock, a soldier threw them a line and helped tie the boat to the dock. Xavo helped Lady Mystic out of the boat and then stepped to the dock himself.
“What are you two doing here?” questioned one of the black cloaks. “Where have you come from?”
“We have come from Motanga,” Lady Mystic answered. “As to what we are doing here, that is none of your business. Where is Premer Cardijja?”
“We will ask the questions,” retorted the Motangan mage. “We were informed that the elves have taken over the Island of Darkness. How is it that you two have managed to leave?”
“You are rather well informed,” frowned Xavo. “We managed to escape while Vandamar was falling. As for who is asking the questions here,” he continued with scorn, “I am a disciple of Vand. As such, I will not tolerate your attitude. What is your name?”
“I am Veritago,” the mage’s chest swelled with pride. “I am in charge of Meliban.”
“Good,” Xavo nodded curtly, “then you can escort us to our quarters. We are tired and hungry and in need of bathing.”
“First I must inform Vandegar of your presence here,” balked Veritago. “We have been instructed to inform the emperor of any significant developments.”
“You will do nothing of the kind,” scowled Lady Mystic. “Using an air tunnel over such a great distance can be disastrous. Have you not been informed of the dangers?”
“Dangers?” the mage echoed suspiciously. “We use the air tunnel all the time. What nonsense are you spouting?”
“It is obvious that the twelve mages from here never returned,” Xavo said softly to his partner. “This is most serious.”
Veritago’s eyes narrowed as he watched the two newcomers talk privately. While Xavo’s voice had been lowered to almost a whisper, the Motangan mage could hear them perfectly well.
“That explains much about their ignorance,” Lady Mystic nodded to Xavo. Raising her voice to a normal volume, she turned to gaze into Veritago’s eyes. “You will contact no one until we have talked,” she said authoritatively. “There are dangers that you are obviously unaware of. Lead the way.”
Veritago frowned with skepticism, but he turned and led the way to the Kheri Inn just across the street from the administration building. He loudly ordered two rooms for the visitors.
“Have two baths drawn,” added Xavo. “I will discuss developments with you while I bathe. There is too much danger for the news to wait too long.”
Veritago passed the order on to the Motangan innkeeper and followed Xavo up the stairs. Neither of them spoke as Xavo undressed and a soldier filled a tub with hot water. When the soldier was gone, Xavo stepped into the tub and began to wash away the salt spray encrusting his body.
“Many things have happened in the past few days, Veritago,” Xavo began. “Rather than bore you with what I know, tell me what you have been informed of. I will then fill the gaps in your knowledge.”
The black cloak hesitated, but Xavo appeared so at ease that he could not imagine any subterfuge. He mentioned the most important news that he had already heard. It included the loss of Duran, the defeat of Doralin, the fall of Motanga, and Vand’s instructions to Cardijja to find Angragar.
“You are fairly well informed,” Xavo nodded when Veritago had concluded. “What is missing from your knowledge is the corruption of the air tunnel spell. While it is still useful for short distances, it is extremely unwise to use it over any great distance. The elves have found a way to spread a compulsion spell through any air tunnel that they can detect. We advised the twelve mages sent to Vandamar about this problem and sent them back here. I am concerned that they never arrived.”
“A compulsion spell?” echoed Veritago. “How does that affect us? There are no elves in Fakara.”
“There you are wrong,” Xavo shook his head. “There are elven mages attached to each of our enemies’ armies. Did you not know that the elven princesses actually were raised here on the mainland?”
“I had heard that,” nodded Veritago, “but I thought they had fled to Elvangar.”
“Fled?” balked Xavo. “One can hardly accuse them of fleeing when they have just recently conquered the Island of Darkness.”
“Maybe so,” replied Veritago, skepticism still evident in his voice, “but we are still under orders to inform Vand of any major happenings.”
“Then you must do so,” shrugged Xavo as he watched the mage’s demeanor soften.
“Then I will do so immediately,” declared Veritago as he rose and turned to leave the room.
“You are going yourself?” Xavo said with shock. “I cannot imagine that you would not send someone else. Who will be in charge of Meliban while you are away?”
“Away?” questioned Veritago. “What do you mean away?”
“Well,” Xavo shook his head in confusion, “I just explained why you must not use an air tunnel over such a great distance. Word of our arrival must be sent to Vand the old-fashioned way. Someone will have to go to Vandegar. I did not think that you would actually go yourself.”
“Travel to Vandegar?” balked the mage. “You can’t be serious? Do you know how far that is?”
“I have been there,” smiled Xavo. “It is an impressive temple, much larger than the one in Vandamar.”
“You have been to Vandegar?” Veritago asked with suspicion. He knew that Xavo had not been to the mainland since the invasion began. “Before the invasion?”
“Quite a bit before the invasion,” nodded Xavo. “You seem surprised. Did you think that one became a disciple of Vand merely for being a good mage? I have served Vand in many ways, most of which you will never hear about.”
“I was unaware,” replied Veritago with genuine awe. Only spies and assassins had been allowed to leave the Island of Darkness before the invasion. The mage suddenly had a newfound level of respect for Xavo. The revelation lent great credibility to Xavo’s knowledge and words.
“I suggest that you send a man of lesser importance than yourself,” smiled Xavo, feeling that he had finally set the hook. “Or you could just let Lady Mystic and me deliver the news. We are heading for Vandegar in the morning.”
“You are going to Vandegar?” inquired Veritago. “The trip is not safe. Cardijja lost fifty thousand men getting the emperor to Vandegar, and I cannot afford to offer you troops. Our soldiers are needed to guard the caravans going to Premer Cardijja.”
“We will not need troops to escort us,” Xavo waved off the suggestion. “It is important that the emperor get news of this air tunnel danger. Somebody must deliver the word, and it is important enough that I feel a personal need to do it.”
“And what should I do when Vandegar contacts me?” frowned Veritago. “They do so on a daily basis.”
“Do not answer the calls,” warned Xavo as he stepped from the tub and began drying himself. “While they may get angry with you right now, I will explain the situation when I arrive in Vandegar. The danger of someone in Vandegar falling under an elven compulsion spell is too severe to be taken lightly.”
* * *
Xavo and Lady Mystic rode out of Meliban early in the morning. They did not speak until they were well away from the city.
“It has been a long time since I rode,” commented Lady Mystic, “and even that was just for sport. How far is Vandegar?”
“It doesn’t matter,” shrugged Xavo, “we are not going there. For either of us to show our faces at Vandegar would be suicide right now.”
“Then what are we doing in Fakara?” scowled Lady Mystic. “I would have preferred to stay on the island over this despicable wasteland.”
“We will go to Vandegar eventually,” soothed Xavo, “but we cannot just yet. Vand must be desperate for allies before we attempt to show our faces there. In the meantime, we will do our best to make him desperate.”
“And how do we do that?” asked Lady Mystic. “By stealing two of his precious horses?”
“I didn’t steal them,” grinned Xavo. “Veritago freely offered them. I think he was relieved that we had offered to go to Vandegar so that he didn’t have to sacrifice any of his men.”
“I am sure,” chuckled Lady Mystic. “And just what did you tell him last night? His attitude changed dramatically.”
“That is not important,” shrugged Xavo. “What is important is the level of supplies present in Meliban. I thought there would be much less than what I saw walking around the city last night. Cardijja has been wise in loading up on supplies and not depending on regular shipments from Duran.”
“Yet he had sent ships to Duran for more supplies,” Lady Mystic pointed out. “Why if he was not in need of them?”
“Need is relative,” replied Xavo. “When you have three major armies drawing on the same supply depot, a wise man anticipates shortages. I think Cardijja complained about shortages in order to build his own supply depot in Meliban. We must do something about that.”
“You want the two of us to attack Meliban?” frowned Lady Mystic. “Inconceivable. In addition to ten thousand soldiers, there were more than a hundred mages there. Do not get cocky, Xavo. We are mortal.”
“Very mortal,” nodded Xavo. “I do not plan to take on the whole Motangan army, but I did find out the route that the caravans use. If we can attack them before they reach Cardijja’s men, we can accomplish something useful while we wait for the right opportunity to go to Vandegar.”
“It would be nice if we could get the tribes to attack Meliban,” mused Lady Mystic. “Do you know how to contact the Fakarans?”
“No,” Xavo shook his head, “but I can contact Emperor Marak. He will know how to reach the Fakarans. I doubt that they know of the amount of supplies in Meliban. If they did, they would have destroyed the city already.”
“Let’s get further away before we do that,” suggested Lady Mystic. “The Fakarans are just as likely to kill us as anyone else. I doubt they would even give us time to talk our way out of an attack.”
“You are more right than you know,” sighed Xavo. “To the tribes, we are just another couple of black cloaks. Perhaps we should find something else to wear. I could pass myself off as a trader and you as my wife.”
“Now that sounds interesting,” grinned Lady Mystic.
* * *
“All of the bridges over the rivers have been destroyed,” reported General Chen. “Our position is untenable. The Khadorans have hundreds of siege engines pounding our armies from across the Khadora River. We have to pull back until we can determine a way across the river.”
“It takes time to build siege engines,” scowled Premer Shamal. “We have been ordered to make haste to Khadoratung. Get the mages to come up with a way to get us across.”
“We have only a handful of mages left,” General Chen shook his head. “The battle at the third trench took a terrible toll on them.”
“It was necessary,” shrugged Shamal, “just as it is necessary to cross this river. Emperor Vand has lost his patience. He wants Khadora conquered quickly so our armies can cross the Fortung Mountains and search for Angragar.”
“The emperor cannot always get what he wants,” the general replied softly. “If we move too quickly, our losses will be great.”
“And you think the emperor cares?” Shamal asked with raised eyebrows. “His armies are merely tools to acquire his personal goals. You must be aware of that.”
“I am,” nodded General Chen, “but I also wish to cling to life. If that means that the men must be sacrificed, I can play that game.”
“As can I,” agreed Premer Shamal, “but those same men are what protects us from the Khadorans. I will not throw my armies away needlessly to meet some arbitrary goal. So far our losses have been acceptable, but we are close to crossing that line. How do we cross the river quickly and still have an army when we are done?”
“There are only two ways,” answered General Chen. “We can backtrack along the river to find a ford, or we can build siege engines and obliterate the city of Sintula. Both options slow us down.”
Premer Shamal said nothing, but he began pacing. General Chen had known the premer long enough to understand that the pacing meant that Shamal was not happy with the alternatives. He held his tongue and let his superior pace in silence.
“There is a third solution,” Premer Shamal finally said, his eyes twinkling with victory over the mental exercise. “Send out patrols upstream along the Khadora River. They are to be covert inspections. I do not want the enemy to realize that our interest in the river is more than cursory.”
“You want them to look for a ford?” asked General Chen.
“They should act like they are looking for a ford,” smiled Premer Shamal, “but what I really want to know is how far upstream the Khadorans are watching. They know this river well, so if there is a ford upstream we can be sure that it will be guarded.”
“So you are more interested in finding out if we will be observed upstream?” questioned the general. “What do you have in mind if we are not being watched?”
“Rafts,” smiled Premer Shamal. “Simple rafts. The rafts can be created in the forest beyond the prying eyes of the enemy. During the night we will ferry our men across the river upstream from Sintula. When the Khadorans wake in the morning, our armies will be attacking the city from the east instead of being on the south side of the river.”
“An excellent plan,” grinned General Chen. “It is simple, yet ingenious. I will see to immediately.”
* * *
“They have backed away from the river,” reported Marshal Berman. “There do not appear to be any siege machines being constructed. They are just standing there.”
“Something smells,” frowned Emperor Marak. “They should be building siege engines to attack the city. Are you sure they are not building them out of sight?”
“I cannot be sure of that,” admitted Marshal Berman, “but I can see no activity at all in the enemy camp. We need a spy across the river.”
“If they had no plans to use siege engines as all,” interjected Lord Patel, “I would think that they would at least make the appearance of building some. Even if it was just to throw us off.”
“Perhaps,” replied Lord Chenowith, “but maybe not. Maybe Shamal is just letting his men rest before the attack. They covered the distance from the third trench in an amazingly short time. They must be tired.”
“They raced to reach Sintula,” frowned the Torak. “That alone indicates that they are in a hurry to conquer us. Perhaps the defeat of Premer Doralin in the Sakova has created some kind of urgency in Vand’s plans. I cannot believe that Shamal raced to Sintula only to rest his men. It makes no sense.”
“What can he do without siege engines?” asked Lord Quilo. “If he tries coming across the river, we will decimate his troops.”
“If he does it where we can see him,” mused the emperor.
“The closest ford is over a day away,” remarked Marshal Berman. “If he was planning on fording the river, his whole army would be in motion. They are not moving.”
“Nevertheless,” stated the Torak, “he is planning on crossing the river. It is the only thing he can do. Send horsemen upstream, Marshal. I do not want them on the banks of the river where the enemy can see them. Keep them inland a bit.”
“But then they will not be able to see what the enemy is up to,” frowned Marshal Berman. “What good will that do?”
“I am more interested in what they hear,” smiled the Torak. “I want to know if they hear any sounds of felling trees, or crafting wood.”
“Boats?” asked Lord Kiamesh.
“Boats, rafts, a bridge,” shrugged the Torak. “It doesn’t matter what their plan is, but where it is. Wherever we hear the sounds of falling trees, that will be where the Motangans plan to cross the river.”
“And what do we do when we find it?” asked Lord Jamarat.
“We deny them the chance to cross,” answered he emperor.
“So we move thousands of men to stop them from crossing,” pondered Lord Patel. “Meanwhile, they move their bridge building operation to another spot on the river. We cannot afford to watch the whole river. They will eventually succeed in crossing it.”
“You are correct,” nodded Marak. “We cannot possibly stop them from crossing. All we can do is to make them waste men and time. Both of those are important to Premer Shamal. Let us plan to make him waste much of both.”