Mistake gazed at the enormous canyon as she rode along its western rim. She felt her body shudder involuntarily as she rode close to the edge and tried to peer into its depths to see the bottom. She shook her head in awe.
“It is called the Wound of Kaltara,” HawkShadow declared. “God created it when he lost faith in the Sakovans.”
“Impossible,” Mistake said softly as she looked at the enormous gash in the surface of the planet. “It must be over a league to the other rim. Is that a river at the bottom?”
“The Kaltara River,” nodded HawkShadow. “The Wound of Kaltara is over a league wide and half a league deep. It runs for many leagues in each direction.”
“How do you cross it?” asked Mistake. “The walls are vertical cliffs. Surely these birds cannot fly across it?” she added, as her eyes fell to the choka she was riding.
“Certainly not,” chuckled HawkShadow. “Chokas are war birds. They do not fly at all. The fact is,” he continued, “you can’t cross it. It is an impenetrable barrier between the Sakova and that portion of Omunga to our east.”
StarWind snapped her fingers to get HawkShadow’s attention. Her fingers moved rapidly in a signaling fashion and the Sakovan assassin nodded.
“It is MistyTrail,” HawkShadow said softly. “She has been observing us for some time now.”
“Are you sure?” asked StarWind as Mistake turned her attention away from the majestic canyon. “Why haven’t we introduced Mistake to her yet?”
“I wanted to observe her technique for a while before we met,” shrugged HawkShadow. “It is not often that I get the chance to be an intruder in the Sakova. She has done remarkably well.”
“MistyTrail has been watching us?” Mistake asked nervously as she reached into her pack for the carozit. “You should have told me,” she frowned as she wondered what kind of impression she had made gawking at the canyon.
The carozit, a magical artifact, was given to Mistake by the Sage of the Mountain in Fakara. It was a simple polished stick with two metal balls attached to one end with strings. The magic affected the balls when the carozit was turned upside down. Instead of clanging together by the force of gravity, the balls would hang in the air to display the relative distance to your nearest relative. The Sage had given it to Mistake when she had told him of her search for her family.
Mistake turned the carozit upside down. The balls clanged together, and Mistake’s mouth fell open in awe.
“It is her!” shouted Mistake as HawkShadow and StarWind turned and stared at the carozit.
“She must be my sister,” Mistake continued excitedly. “I want to meet her now. Take me to her.”
HawkShadow nodded in amazement. He immediately turned to the west and headed for the forest. StarWind and Mistake followed him. HawkShadow led them into the forest until he found a suitable clearing. He dismounted and immediately moved towards Mistake to help her off the choka.
“I don’t need help getting down,” Mistake scowled as she slid to the ground.
“Do not let your emotions cloud your judgment,” warned HawkShadow. “The choka is not yet used to you. He can shred your skin swifter than an army of knives. Those talons are sharper than any blade.”
Mistake ignored HawkShadow and peered into the woods. She turned in a complete circle. Her face clouded over with concern when she did not see anyone.
“Why have we stopped here?” questioned Mistake. “MistyTrail is not here. Please take me to her.”
“Patience, little one,” smiled HawkShadow. “She will be here shortly. She must make sure that this is not a trap.”
“But surely she knows you and StarWind?” frowned Mistake. “Why would she think that you would trap her?”
“She does not know you,” StarWind pointed out. “MistyTrail knows what the procedures are for incursions into the Sakova. She takes her obligations seriously. Have patience, Mistake.”
Mistake pouted as she fiddled with her short brown hair. She straightened her clothes and brushed off the trail dust as her eyes continually scanned the forest around them.
Several minutes later, Mistake saw a brown blur dash from one tree to another not far outside the clearing. A knife reflexively slid into her hand from its arm sheath. She concentrated on the tree where she had last seen the movement, but she could see nothing.
“Tayo, HawkShadow and StarWind,” said a soft voice from behind Mistake. “Who is this with you?”
Mistake twirled and gaped at the diminutive Sakovan who had snuck into the clearing from the opposite direction. She was dressed entirely in brown and was short like Mistake. She had the same short brown hair and was holding a knife in her hand. Mistake’s eyes rose and peered at MistyTrail’s pointed ears. She locked eyes with the small Sakovan, and for several long minutes the clearing was silent.
“I thought they looked alike,” HawkShadow finally said, “but to see them both at the same time is remarkable. There can be no doubt that they are sisters. They might even be twins.”
“I agree,” StarWind nodded as she stared at the two small women.
“Will someone tell me what is going on?” demanded MistyTrail. “Is this some kind of a joke, HawkShadow? Because if it is, I am not laughing.”
“It is no joke, little one,” chuckled HawkShadow. “Put away your knives. Misty, this is Mistake. She is from Fakara and is a special friend of Lord Marak’s. Did no one tell you that we were bringing her with us?”
“I did hear that you were bringing in an outsider,” admitted MistyTrail, “but nothing more was said of it. Why is she coming to the Sakova?”
“To talk to you,” interjected StarWind. “She thinks you are her sister.”
“Sister?” croaked MistyTrail. “That cannot be. I have no family.”
“You do now,” grinned Mistake as she dropped her knife and ran across the clearing.
MistyTrail gaped in confusion as Mistake charged towards her. MistyTrail’s hand holding the knife rose instinctively. StarWind gasped as she realized what was about to happen. Suddenly, HawkShadow’s foot swung up and kicked the knife from MistyTrail’s hand. MistyTrail uttered a cry of surprise as her knife went flying, and Mistake collided with her. Mistake wrapped her arms around MistyTrail and hugged her tightly.
MistyTrail looked to HawkShadow with confusion on her face, but the Sakovan assassin merely grinned back at her and nodded. MistyTrail embarrassingly wrapped her arms around Mistake, but she still did not believe that the stranger was her sister. The embrace lasted for several minutes. HawkShadow and StarWind moved away from the sisters to tend to the chokas. Eventually, Mistake broke the embrace and pushed MistyTrail to arm’s length. She stared into Mistake’s eyes.
“I know this is probably hard for you to understand,” she said, “but I have been looking for you all of my life.”
“But how can you be my sister?” asked MistyTrail. “My family died at sea. Any Sakovan can tell you that.”
“I know,” smiled Mistake. “You were rescued from the sea in the Year of the Storm. So was I.”
“You were?” MistyTrail gasped with hope in her eyes. “Why weren’t you rescued by the Sakovans as I was?”
“I was rescued by a Fakaran fisherman,” explained Mistake.
“Fakara?” frowned MistyTrail. “But that is so far away from here. How could it be from the same boat?”
“Fakara is not that far by water,” shrugged Mistake. “Only if you travel by land is it so far away. Besides, I have a magical carozit that can prove that you are my family. It was given to me by the Sage of the Mountain in Fakara.”
“Show it to me,” demanded MistyTrail.
Mistake took the carozit from her pack and showed it to MistyTrail. She told of her trip to the Sage of the Mountain and how the carozit proved that Rejji and Bakhai were brothers. The sisters spoke for a long time before HawkShadow interrupted.
“It is important for StarWind to return to StarCity to find out what is happening with the Omungans,” he said. “This stop is eating up valuable time.”
“But I have just met Mistake,” frowned MistyTrail. “How can you ask me to continue my patrols now?”
“I could not,” smiled HawkShadow. “Go with them to StarCity, little one. I will take over the task of patrolling the Sakova. You have had more than your fair share of it while I was in Khadora.”
“Really?” brightened MistyTrail as she ran over and hugged HawkShadow. “Thank you, HawkShadow.”
Mistake walked over and hugged HawkShadow, too. When he looked down at her, the little thief grinned and winked at him. HawkShadow laughed and shook his head.
“The Sakova will never be the same with two elves running around in it,” he chuckled.
“I am not an elf,” pouted Mistake.
“There are no elves,” added MistyTrail with a grin.
* * *
Aakuta stood in the darkness of the trees at the mouth of the Meliban River in Fakara. He watched as the small sailboat grew larger as it approached the coastline. He stood unmoving as he kept watch on the progress of the small craft. He nodded with satisfaction when he saw that a single person occupied the sailboat. When the boat made a slight turn at the delta of the great river, Aakuta moved swiftly but silently to an area close to where it would beach. As the boat slid onto the beach, Aakuta threw off his hood and marched towards it.
“You are late,” greeted Aakuta. “I have been waiting for days for you to arrive.”
“Who are you?” the foreign mage asked as he looked up at Aakuta. “Are you Brakas?”
“No,” Aakuta answered as he closed the distance between the sailor and himself. “Brakas is at Vandegar Temple. I am Aakuta. Welcome to Fakara.”
“I do not need your welcome,” spat the newcomer as his eyes scanned the beach in both directions. “Get me some wood to build a fire. This boat must be destroyed.”
“In a bit,” smiled Aakuta as he stopped in front of the sailor. “I thought you would like a bit to eat after your long journey. I have food in my pack. What are you called?”
“Smarc,” the man answered with annoyance. “What do you have to eat?”
“Freshly boiled clova,” smiled Aakuta as he took off his pack and rummaged through it. “Did it take a long time to voyage here?”
“Days,” the sailor said distractedly as he watched Aakuta unwrapped the boiled clova. “Why did Brakas not come himself?”
“He was unable to make it,” shrugged Aakuta as he gazed up at the sun to get his bearings and then peered at the horizon in the direction the sailboat had come from.
Mentally calculating the direction, and guessing the distance by the abbreviated estimate of travel time, Aakuta realized that he could not spare the clova for the foreign mage. He would need the food for his journey. He stopped unwrapping the clova and wrapped it back up.
“What are you doing?” scowled the Smarc. “Give me the clova.”
Aakuta dropped the wrapped clova on the beach. The foreign mage snarled and bent down to pick up the food. Aakuta’s hands grabbed Smarc around his neck. He swiftly lifted the man off the sand and smiled when he heard the snap of bones breaking. He tossed the body into the surf and retrieved the package of clova from the beach. He brushed off the sand from the package and placed it in his pack.
The dark mage walked to the small sailboat and examined it. He frowned at the size of the small craft, but he knew he could make do with it. He waded into the surf as he pushed the boat back into the sea. He walked it along the shore to the outlet of the Meliban River and then hauled himself over the side. As the current of the river floated the sailboat out to sea, Aakuta raised the sails and settled in for a long journey.
* * *
“I am glad to find you in Fardale,” Lyra said into the air tunnel. “The last report I had from StarWind indicated that you were going into battle against the Jiadin.”
“They have not returned yet?” asked Lord Marak.
“They should be here today,” answered Lyra. “Even with Chokas it is a long ride from Khadora to StarCity, and half of that had to be done by horse.”
“Well much has happened since they left,” declared Lord Marak. “The Jiadin in Khadora have been defeated, and I have been elected Emperor of Khadora.”
“Emperor?” gasped the Star of Sakova. “Praise Kaltara! He is working actively to aid us in the fight with the great evil. My people will be excited to hear this news.”
“It is a most unexpected turn of events,” conceded the Emperor. “I truly believe that the tide is changing in Khadora. The Lords’ Council stands firmly behind my plan for reforms. This country is going to go through some drastic changes in the immediate future.”
“I can only imagine,” Lyra said excitedly. “What are you doing back in Fardale then?”
“I need to appoint someone to manage the Torak clan in my absence,” explained Emperor Marak. “I felt it was better to do that now before things got really hectic in Khadoratung. There will be another Assembly of Lords meeting next week. That is when the fun will start. I am going to propose my changes and members of the Lords’ Council have prepared speeches backing each and every one of them. It is going to be quite a shock to most of the lords.”
“Will they revolt?” questioned Lyra.
“I do not think so,” answered the Emperor. “Oh, there will be great dissent at first, but when the Emperor and the Lords’ Council agree on something, most of the lords will follow without question. They will grumble in private, but I do not expect anything to come of it. How is the situation down there?”
“Things are also amazing down here,” replied the Star of Sakova. “I have had several meetings with First Minister Larst. The meetings have been most agreeable, and I believe peace between the Sakovans and the Omungans is a certainty. Since our last meeting I have had news that Larst has been chosen Katana. With him leading the Omungan people, things are going to get much better here. There is one problem that I could use your help with.”
“I figured that you were using the air tunnel for a reason,” chuckled Marak. “What can I do for you?”
“The Omungan crops are suffering severally from some strange disease,” explained Lyra. “Their animals are also being affected. I have agreed to supply the worst hit areas of Omunga with food, but we will not have enough to feed everyone. I was wondering if you could start sending loaded ships down to us. We have sufficient gold on hand, and I am willing to pay a generous price for whatever you can send our way.”
“I will send what I can,” agreed Emperor Marak, “but I am not sure how much we can spare. Although our harvests have been greater than any other year, I have been using up our supply at an alarming rate. I have ships going to Fakara daily, and the north of Khadora has been hit with a plague of locusts. Our food supply is rapidly diminishing.”
“Locusts?” questioned the Star of Sakova. “Could they be magical?”
“Magical?” echoed Marak. “I suppose they could be. We are using mages to destroy them. Why do you ask?”
“I believe the disease afflicting Omunga is magical in nature,” answered Lyra. “Actually, that is the belief of Temiker. He has his students studying the issue right now.”
Emperor Marak was silent for several moments as he digested Lyra’s words.
“What are you thinking?” prompted Lyra.
“A dark question is making its way through my mind,” mumbled Emperor Marak. “We know that mages are being sent to foment trouble in each of the three countries that occupy this landmass. They have used our people to stir up trouble and tried to start wars. Is it too far of a stretch to think that they might also seek to destroy our ability to feed ourselves?”
“Oh no,” gasped Lyra. “Nothing would destroy our ability to resist their armies greater than a lack of food. What can we do about it?”
“I am not sure,” admitted Marak, “but we have to make plans immediately. Even if I am wrong about this, we must increase food production.”
“Or decrease consumption,” suggested Lyra. “Am I wrong to use our supplies to feed the Omungans?”
“No,” advised the Emperor. “You are using your food for good reasons. You are helping a starving people and gaining peace at the same time. No one will find fault with your decision. Kaltara is guiding you wisely.”
“At least until we run out of food completely,” sighed the Star of Sakova.
“We must make sure that that does not happen,” replied Emperor Marak. “I am glad that you caught me while I was in Fardale. I think that I will make inquiries while I am here. I will start sending supplies down to you as soon as I can. I will contact you to let you know when they will be arriving.”
“Thank you, Lord Marak,” Lyra responded. “I mean Emperor,” she added.
“Just Marak is fine,” laughed the Emperor. “Titles have never meant much to me between friends. My people here still call me Lord Marak. It is hard for them to adjust.”
“I can imagine,” smiled the Star of Sakova. “I will wait to hear from you.”
Emperor Marak signaled for the air mage to drop his end of the air tunnel. He stood silently for several moments in the office of Lord Marshal Yenga.
“I will be gone for a few days,” he finally announced as he turned and strode out of the office.
Marak walked out of the mansion and mounted a horse at the stables. He ignored the friendly calls to him as he rode out the gates and headed towards the Sitari Valley. His mind pursued solutions to the potential food crisis as he rode towards the Chula village. He was vaguely aware of the Chula warriors that ran alongside him in the forest, but he did not let them distract him. When he arrived at the Chula village, Tmundo was waiting for him.
“Favored son of the Zatong,” greeted Tmundo, “what brings the Torak home to the Chula?”
“I seek the counsel of a Chula shaman,” answered Marak.
“Then you are doubly fortunate,” smiled the leader of the Kywara tribe of Chula. “Your father is still residing with us. I will have both Rykoma and Ukaro join us. Please enter my hut and make yourself comfortable.”
The Torak nodded and entered the tribal leader’s hut. He had barely entered the hut when Tmundo returned with Rykoma and Marak’s Chula father. Ukaro grinned broadly as he crossed the floor and hugged his son. He broke the embrace and held Marak at arm’s length.
“Look at you,” Ukaro grinned. “You grow more powerful every time we meet. I have heard that the flatlanders have made you Emperor. Is this true?”
“Is nothing secret from the Chula,” chuckled Marak. “My own people in Fardale did not learn of it until I arrived. How do you do it?”
“The Chula have ears everywhere,” smiled Ukaro. “I am pleased that you still find time to visit with your true people.”
“I had not planned to visit,” Marak admitted with a frown as he moved away from his father and sat on the floor. “I have heard some news that distresses me. I need your counsel.”
The three Chula sat on the floor facing Marak.
“What is this news?” asked Rykoma, the Head Shaman for the Kywara tribe.
“I have just heard that a magical disease is spreading through Omunga,” related Marak. “The Sakovans asked me to ship large quantities of food to them. I am already feeding the Fakarans, and there is a locust plague in northern Khadora. The thought occurred to me that our true enemy is trying to starve us before the invasion.”
“That would not surprise me,” replied Ukaro, the Head Shaman of the Zatong tribe. “A lack of food would destroy your army quicker than battle. Look what it did to the Jiadin.”
“You seem to have thought this out already,” commented Rykoma. “Why are you here to ask us about it?”
“No one knows the magic of plants and animals better than the Chula,” Marak stated. “I have seen what your magic has done for my watula fields in Fardale. If you can make my fields produce more than ever before, you should be able to do the same for all Khadoran fields.”
“There are not enough Chula shaman to treat every field in Khadora,” Tmundo shook his head.
“You would not have to do treat every field in Khadora,” argued Marak. “I have thousands of mages in my service. Teach them what they need to know. I will send them out to magically treat the fields.”
“That is not possible,” scowled Tmundo. “I have told you before, the Chula do not share their magic with flatlanders. It is out of the question.”
“How dare you refuse him?” interrupted Ukaro.
“He is your son, Ukaro, not mine,” Tmundo retorted adamantly. “Chula magic is not to be shared. This is our law.”
“I am well familiar with our law,” countered Ukaro. “I do not ask the question of you because he is my son. I ask the question because Marak is the Torak. He is the holy leader of our people. You cannot deny him. His word is above the law. How dare you defy Kaltara?”
Tmundo’s jaw dropped as he stared at Ukaro. Slowly he nodded and closed his eyes.
“How quickly I forget such a gift from Kaltara,” sighed Tmundo. “I was thrilled that he finally sent us the promised Torak, and yet I still treat Marak as a flatlander. I apologize.”
Marak’s brow creased with confusion. “Then you will teach my people?” he asked.
“We will do whatever you require of us,” Rykoma said softly. “We may counsel you against certain things, like giving our magic knowledge to the flatlanders, but you are sent by Kaltara to save us. We cannot refuse your commands.”
“Then I have more to ask of you,” the Torak said as he realized his position. “I want the fields of Fakara to be renewed. I have heard tales of a new rebirth in a remote area of the Fakaran wasteland. I believe your magic may restore that desolate country.”
“We will have to train a great number of your mages,” remarked Rykoma. “I would like to visit Fakara before I train your people. I must understand the magics that were used to salt that soil.”
“Good,” nodded Marak. “I also want someone with great knowledge to investigate this disease in Omunga. I must know what I am up against before it is too late to adjust for it.”
“Will your mages take instructions from us?” asked Rykoma.
“They will do what I tell them to do,” nodded Marak. “I have many a skilled a mage in Fardale. They will learn quickly. I will bring more in as you train them.”
“Then it shall be as you command,” decided Tmundo. “I truly hope that Kaltara is guiding you wisely. What is learned by the flatlanders cannot be unlearned.”
“I will go to Omunga,” declared Ukaro as he rose. “You, my son, must accompany me before you leave this day.”
“Where are we going?” asked Marak as he rose.
“Someplace that I should have taken you a long time ago,” smiled Ukaro. “It is time for you to learn what being the Torak truly means to our people. I will take you to the ancient temple of the Chula.”
“Changragar,” nodded Rykoma. “Yes, it is time for the Torak to know everything. He has shown that he is truly the gift from Kaltara that was promised to us. I will send someone to let Fardale know that he will be gone for a few days.”