“Wake up!” shouted MistyTrail. “Hurry!
Mistake opened her eyes. She could just see the rail of the boat and the angry sky beyond it. She sat up and was immediately thrown against the side of the boat. Pain shot through her shoulder as her body was tossed towards the other side of the boat.
“Grab the tiller thing,” shouted MistyTrail.
Mistake fell to the bottom of the boat. She shook her head and crawled toward the stern. The swaying of the boat made her feel queasy as she grabbed onto the tiller. She pulled herself up and managed to slide the bucket under her. A furious wind had the sail full. The boat was being pushed sideways through the water. Mistake tried to move the tiller, but it would not budge.
“It won’t move,” shouted Mistake. “Come help me.”
Mistake hung onto the tiller as she watched MistyTrail crawling towards her. She looked up at the sky and bit her lower lip. Dark angry clouds covered the sky, and it was pouring to the left of her. The chill of the air shivered through her body.
“It’s going to rain,” Mistake shouted over the howl of the wind. “Hurry.”
MistyTrail scurried along the floor of the boat and grabbed onto Mistake’s leg as the boat lurched again. She waited until the momentum of the boat steadied and then she stood and grabbed the tiller.
“Now,” shouted MistyTrail.
They both tried to move the tiller. It slowly started to move, but the boat lurched again. MistyTrail fell on the rail, the top half of her body hanging outside the boat. Mistake let go of the tiller and wrapped her arms around MistyTrail’s legs. She pulled frantically as the sea tried to suck MistyTrail out of the boat. MistyTrail’s hands appeared over the side of the boat. They gripped the rail as MistyTrail tried to pull herself into the boat. They lurched again and MistyTrail’s body flew into Mistake. They both ended up sprawling on the floor of the boat.
MistyTrail’s hands went to her side above the left hip. She groaned loudly.
“Are you alright?” shouted Mistake.
“I am still here,” quipped MistyTrail. “Let’s try that again, but I am not standing up this time.”
Mistake nodded and grabbed the bucket. She threw the bucket towards the bow of the boat and faced the tiller on her knees. MistyTrail crawled to her side seconds later. Suddenly, the sky opened up with a tremendous flash of lightning and a deafening clap of thunder. The rain came down fast and furious as they gripped the tiller and tried to move it.
“Harder,” shouted Mistake. “If we don’t move it, this boat may tip over.”
MistyTrail bit her lip and nodded as she saw the angry swells rising higher and higher as the storm moved closer to them. She pulled with every fiber of her body.
“It’s moving,” shouted Mistake. “It’s moving.”
MistyTrail closed her eyes and gritted her teeth as she tried to coax more strength out of her body. Suddenly, there was a loud snap, and both them were hurled against the side of the boat. Once again they were sprawled on the floor of the boat.
“Now what?” yelled MistyTrail. “We can’t steer any more.”
Mistake looked at the handle of the tiller swaying in the breeze. She shook her head and sighed.
“I don’t know,” she said, her voice barely audible above the howling wind. “Maybe we should have lowered the sail first. At least with this much wind, we will end up somewhere.”
The wind suddenly increased as the sky lit up with multiple flashes of lightning. The boat tipped to a severe angle and both women grabbed the rail to avoid being thrown to the other side of the boat. A torrential downpour pounded them with cold water, and Mistake noticed that water was accumulating in the bottom of the boat.
“Get the bucket,” shouted Mistake. “We will need to keep the water out of the boat.”
MistyTrail nodded and worked her way forward without ever letting go of the rail. The boat leaned so much that MistyTrail felt almost vertical at times as she moved slowly forward. All of a sudden, a tremendous crack split the air. The noise was so loud that MistyTrail thought she had been hit by lightning. She closed her eyes and waited for the pain.
“Look out for the mast!” screamed Mistake.
Suddenly the boat lurched severely, and instead of being almost vertical, MistyTrail’s arms strained to keep her from being thrown out of the boat in the opposite direction. She glanced behind her and saw the fallen mast. The mast and sails were in the water; the only things holding them above water were the ropes tied to the rail. MistyTrail swiftly pulled a knife from her belt and cut the closest line. Mistake instantly nodded and did the same to the lines near her. The mast bumped noisily against the boat before sinking from view.
With the mast and sails gone, the boat didn’t ride at such a strange angle. MistyTrail sheathed her knife, crawled forward, and grabbed her pack. She strapped the pack onto her body and grabbed the bucket. She started bailing water out of the boat. She bailed for close to half an hour before her arms ached. All the while, the sea rose in intensity, and the rain continue to pour down on them. Eventually, she crawled towards the stern and shoved the bucket towards Mistake.
“Your turn,” she yelled to Mistake.
Mistake nodded and grabbed the bucket. She started bailing swiftly and appeared to be gaining on the water sloshing around the bottom of the boat. Then the waves began tossing spray into the small vessel. Mistake looked up and her eyes grew wide with terror. Instead of seeing the nasty sky, all she saw was a wall of water. The wave appeared taller than the Imperial Palace in Khadoratung.
“Grab onto something quick,” she shouted as she dropped the bucket and grabbed for the rail.
She closed her eyes and waited for the wave to collapse onto the boat, but it never did. Her eyes snapped open, and they were on top of a huge swell. Suddenly, the boat dropped. It felt like they were falling from a great height, but Mistake knew they were riding down the back slope of the huge wave. She also knew that another monstrous wave was coming for them. Her stomach wanted to heave.
The feeling of falling suddenly stopped and Mistake looked up at the next wave. She didn’t close her eyes this time. The small boat flew up the leading edge of the wave and tottered momentarily before plunging down the other side.
“Keep bailing,” shouted MistyTrail. “If the boat fills with water the waves won’t matter much.”
Mistake nodded as her hands grabbed for the bucket. She started bailing, but she had to stop each time they fell down the backside of a wave. She was sure that if there had been anything appreciable in her stomach, it would have exited by now. Her head began to spin with dizziness, and she tossed the bucket back to MistyTrail. She shook her head to clear it and looked up at the next wave. Her mouth fell open in horror as she saw the top of the gigantic wave curling over the tiny boat.
“Hold your breath!” she shouted. “We are going to die.”
The wave crashed down on them with tremendous force. Mistake felt the boat being ripped away from her while she was under the water. It felt like the sea was trying to tear her in half as it tugged at her body from every direction. Her lungs wanted air, but she kept her mouth closed tightly. Her head spun with dizziness, and she was not sure which way was up. She collided with something hard, and a stab of pain shot up through her leg.
Suddenly, her head was above the surface of the water. She gulped air as quickly as she could before being plunged back under. The water moved her in only one direction now, and she felt like she was being dragged along a beach. Her hand felt sand as it brushed against the bottom and her spirits immediately brightened. She pushed away from the sand, and her head broke the surface again. She sucked greedily at the air.
She was sucked back under, but Mistake’s resolve grew harder. She fought the water as it tried to drive her body. Somehow she managed to get her feet under her, and she stood up. She was surprised to find out that she could stand with her head above the surface of the water. She looked all around for MistyTrail as the waves tried to topple her.
“This way!” called MistyTrail.
Mistake turned and saw MistyTrail on the beach. She forced her way through the surf and threw her body down next to MistyTrail.
“Are you alright?” MistyTrail asked. “Are you hurt?”
Mistake wasn’t sure how to answer the question. Her whole body ached and was strangely numb at the same time. She flexed her fingers and then her toes. She moved her head from side-to-side and then rolled over onto her back.
“I think I am alright,” Mistake finally said. “How about you?”
“Good enough to find some shelter,” replied MistyTrail. “Let’s get out of here before the storm hits us.”
“Before?” gasped Mistake as she sat up and stared at the sea.
The mountainous waves were barely visible offshore, but they were still coming towards them. Mistake saw that the waves were breaking into huge sprays of mist some distance off the coast.
“It must be a reef or submerged rocks,” explained MistyTrail. “It’s amazing we got over them in one piece. Let’s find some shelter.”
Mistake nodded and pushed herself to her feet. She saw blood dripping down her leg, but she ignored it. Pain lanced through her leg as she followed MistyTrail.
A jungle ran along the coast, separated from the sea by a thin stretch of beach. MistyTrail stood staring into the jungle, but Mistake shook her head and indicated that MistyTrail should follow her. Mistake walked along the edge of the jungle peering into it. The wind still tore into them, spraying their bodies with fine sand, and the rain continued to pour from the sky. Mistake eyed the jungle with caution, remembering the dangers that might be found within it. After twenty minutes of walking swiftly, she was about to give up and plunge into the jungle when she saw a small rowboat farther along the beach. She turned to check on MistyTrail before picking up the pace a bit. A few minutes later she halted nervously. MistyTrail came up alongside her and stared at the small three-story building standing on the beach.
“Why are we stopping?” asked MistyTrail. “Let’s bang on the door and get out of this rain.”
“I don’t know where we are,” cautioned Mistake. “At first I thought we might have come out in the Qubari Jungle, but they would not have a house like this on the beach. They wouldn’t allow anyone else to either.”
“Alright,” whispered MistyTrail. “Let’s find out if anyone is inside. You take the front, and I will take the back.”
Mistake nodded and they both dashed towards the house. MistyTrail raced around to the back of the house. The windows were shuttered and the door was locked. She continued around to the far side of the house and eventually to the front where Mistake was standing by the door.
“The back is all locked up,” MistyTrail reported softly.
“So is the front,” nodded Mistake. “I am going to open the door. Get ready in case there are people inside.”
MistyTrail nodded and drew her belt knife. Mistake extracted a thin strip of metal from her belt and worked it into the lock. Seconds later a click let her know that the door was unlocked. She looked at MistyTrail and inhaled deeply as she shoved the piece of metal into her belt and drew her knife. Mistake eased the door open cautiously and stepped inside. MistyTrail followed her and pulled the door shut.
The first floor of the house was dark. Mistake and MistyTrail quietly worked their way through each of the rooms and found nothing. Mistake led the way up the stairs to the second floor. There were only two rooms on the second floor. One room had two large beds in it. The other had a table with chairs around it and a lone chair in front of the window. The window was shuttered like all the rest.
MistyTrail led the way up to the third level. The top level was smaller than the rest because the roof slanted down at a sharp angle. It was a single room with piles of used furniture and small crates. Another lone chair sat before the window at the front of the house. Mistake walked to the window and opened the shutter. She gazed out at the angry sea and watched the waves crashing on the reef offshore. She looked down at the small rowboat on the beach and shook her head. She closed the shutters and turned to see MistyTrail rummaging through the crates.
“Whoever lives here likes to watch the sea,” Mistake said. “I doubt it is a fisherman. The rowboat is too small for any serious fishing. Find anything interesting?”
“Uniforms,” MistyTrail said with a puzzled look. “Red uniforms. We are not in Omunga or Sakova. That much I am sure about. I have never seen uniforms like this before.”
Mistake walked over to the crate that MistyTrail was rummaging through. She took out one of the uniforms and held it up.
“Open the rear shutters,” ordered Mistake. “I can’t see much with the light only coming through the cracks.”
MistyTrail opened the shutters and tied them back. The sky was still angry, but there was more than enough light to see what they were doing.
“This is interesting,” commented Mistake. “I have seen just about every uniform from Khadora and Fakara. I have never seen anything like it. Who would go into battle wearing something this loud?”
“There is a city in the distance,” announced MistyTrail.
Mistake dropped the uniform and walked to the rear window. She gazed out at the distant city and frowned.
“Recognize it?” asked MistyTrail.
“No,” answered Mistake as she gazed at the nearby mountains. “The only jungle that I know of is the Qubari Jungle, and it is nowhere near the mountains when it is near the sea. We are not in Fakara.”
“And Khadora has no jungle,” sighed MistyTrail. “So just where are we?”
“I don’t know,” Mistake said as she moved away from the window, “but I am going to slip into one of these uniforms. I have had enough wetness next to my body for now.”
“Sounds like a good idea,” agreed MistyTrail. “There is some rope in the corner. I will string up a line to let our stuff dry out. We should look at your leg. It is bleeding.”
“We need to see what kind of food is in the kitchen, too,” nodded Mistake. “Everything in our packs will be soaked.”
“Why do you suppose the house is empty?” asked MistyTrail. “There were dishes on the table downstairs. Who would just up and leave like that?”
“Probably anyone who knows about storms,” Mistake answered as she listened to the rain pound on the roof. “These people spend a lot of time watching the sea what from I can tell. They must have seen this storm coming.”
“Do you think we are safe here?” asked MistyTrail.
“A lot safer than we were in that boat,” replied Mistake. “It hardly matters now. There is no way that we could reach that city before the storm really hits. We should eat and get some rest while we can. We may end up running as this place falls down around us.”
“The beds downstairs looked comfy,” shrugged MistyTrail.
“I think we should stay up here,” frowned Mistake. “I am glad that we found this house as shelter, but I will not feel at ease until we get a chance to observe the people that live here. These uniforms disturb me.”
“Alright,” agreed MistyTrail. “You tend to your wound, and I will see what food is available downstairs. I will take portions that will not be noticeable if the people return.”
“Smart idea,” smiled Mistake as she sat on a crate and examined her leg.
* * *
Temiker made his rounds of the small classrooms in the schoolhouse in Alamar. He examined the projects of each of the groups and discussed magic theory and its application with the students. He was very happy with their progress. Next, he walked into the large common classroom. One of the older students was leading a discussion on the basics of concentration. Temiker stood against the wall and listened.
A minor commotion near the front door of the school drew his attention. He craned his neck to see what was causing the distraction and saw that a kitten had wandered in off the street. The commotion died as the older student demanded the attention of all of the students. Temiker smiled as he watched the students try to listen to a lecture on concentration while the cat roamed between their desks.
Although the distraction was ironic, Temiker could see that the lecture was being disrupted. He walked over and picked up the kitten. Perhaps if the students were more advanced, he would have let the cat continue its meandering ways. He thought about intentionally providing such a distraction as the students became more familiar with the subject. It would be a good indicator of their level of concentration.
Temiker took the kitten out of the schoolhouse. He gently dropped it on the ground and returned to the common classroom. He listened for another fifteen minutes before he felt a rubbing on his leg. He looked down to see the kitten rubbing against him. Temiker knelt and scratched the kitten’s head as he continued to listen.
Suddenly, the kitten raced down the hallway. Temiker frowned as he slowly stood up, his own concentration on the lecture destroyed. He sighed heavily and followed the cat. The kitten had run by all of the individual classrooms and had entered the dining room. Temiker smiled as he pictured the kitten searching the kitchen for scraps of food.
As Temiker entered the dining room and headed for the kitchen, he heard a door close behind him. He whirled around and saw a large, gray-hooded man standing next to the closed door. His finger was raised to his mouth in a symbol of silence.
“Who are you, and how did you get in here?” Temiker asked calmly.
“I am a friend in need of your help,” the man replied softly. “Can we talk privately?”
“There is no one here,” Temiker stated. “What is it that you need?”
“There is no one here now,” retorted the man, “but the midday meal approaches. A dining room is not where I would wish to be seen.”
“Very well,” nodded Temiker as he walked to another door leading off of the dining room. “This is my private office. Come in and explain what you are doing here.”
The man nodded gratefully and walked through the door to Temiker’s office. He sat in a chair before the desk while Temiker closed the door and walked around the desk to sit behind it.
“First you will remove your hood,” demanded Temiker. “I will see the eyes of who I am talking to.”
The man hesitated only briefly before complying. Temiker swallowed hard as he stared at the man’s face. The man’s snout, for that is what it was, had a split lip and long whiskers. A bushy mane ran from the man’s forehead to a golden drape over his shoulders, and the man’s cat-like eyes sparkled as they bore into his own.
“I am a Chula,” declared the man. “Please hear me out.”
Temiker pressed his lips tightly together as he nodded slowly.
“My name is Ukaro,” stated the man. “I am a shaman of the Zatong tribe in Khadora. I have been asked by Marak to come down here to investigate the mysterious disease affecting your crops.”
Temiker noted the lack of a title for Emperor Marak. He had heard stories of the Chula, but he had never met one. His eyes clinically studied the features of the cat-man while he digested the shaman’s words.
“Emperor Marak is known to me,” Temiker declared. “I am pleased that he would send someone to aid in our investigation, but I am surprised that a Chula would come at the behest of a Khadoran.”
“Marak is our Torak,” Ukaro stated. “Much like Lyra is the Star of Sakova, Kaltara has chosen Marak to lead our people.”
“I am Omungan,” Temiker replied swiftly. “Why do you mention Sakovans to me?”
“You are Lyra’s uncle,” purred Ukaro as his lips split in a wide grin. “I know that my sudden appearance here may be unsettling for you, but I spoke with Lyra when she visited Khadora recently. I know of your relation to her, as well as your support for the Sakovan people. I also know that you are Omungan by birth. Frankly, Omungans to me are as much flatlanders as the Khadorans, but in this situation we must work together. I see your relationship to the Sakovans as an unconscious attempt to be aligned with the forces of good.”
“Just what is it that you want me to do?” asked Temiker.
“I am not familiar with the land or the people down here,” Ukaro said. “You are. You stare at my face wondering if I am planning to eat you. How far do you think I would get investigating the crops of farmers who do not understand why I am here?”
“Not very far,” conceded Temiker. “You would be hunted as soon as you were reported.”
“And hundreds of Omungans would die needlessly,” grinned Ukaro. “That is not a solution to the problem.”
Temiker tilted his head and gazed at the shaman after his display of self-confidence. He began to wonder about the magics of the Chula.
“Can you transform into a cat?” asked Temiker.
“That was me,” confirmed Ukaro. “It is the only way that I could approach you without being seen. I am pleased that you are so considerate of cats. I appreciated the scratch.”
“I am sure that you did,” chuckled Temiker as he warmed to his visitor. “I am happy that Marak was able to convince you to come here and help. Do you think that you can discover what is affecting the crops?”
“I can only try,” shrugged Ukaro. “I will say that the Chula know a great deal about plants and growth, as well as the animal kingdom. I am willing to stay as long as it is necessary to find a cure for the Omungan problem. Will you help me?”
“Of course,” Temiker nodded. “I am well known in these parts, and I have had my students investigating the mysterious disease. The local farmers would not think anything of me stomping through their fields, even if I did have a hooded friend along. When would you like to start?”
“Today,” replied the shaman. “I would like to see a field that you consider the worst hit. The greater the devastation to the crops, the better for my study.”
“Then you are in luck,” frowned Temiker. “Alamar was the first region to be hit by this disease. It all started here and has since spread around the country. This region has all of the worst fields. You can have your pick.”
“Then let us get started,” Ukaro said as he rose.
“Before we leave,” interjected Temiker. “Were you serious in your boast about killing Omungans?”
“It was not a boast,” answered the shaman. “I did not come here seeking to kill flatlanders, but I am very capable of defending myself. I hope to avoid such confrontations.”
“I will help you avoid trouble,” offered Temiker, “but I am curious about your Chula magic. Perhaps you can teach me some of it?”
Ukaro’s eyes narrowed as he gazed at the flatlander. Chula magic was a closely guarded secret, but he also knew that Marak had already taken steps to change that tradition.
“Perhaps,” Ukaro eventually replied.