It was the middle of the night when StarWind answered the gentle tapping at the door. She eased the door open to find Minister Kapla standing alone in the darkness with a black cape around his shoulders.
“Is she ready?” the Minister of Defense asked.
“Yes,” StarWind replied softly as she signaled to those behind her. “The stable boy will bring the horses around with the old tutor. Cherri is on her way right now.”
Cherri pulled the door open and walked out with StarWind and Fisher right behind her. Gone were the pale blue servant uniforms and dark travelling clothes were in their place. Cherri wore a long animal fur robe over her travelling clothes.
Kapla’s eyes widened when he saw Cherri. “Are you going to wear that expensive robe?” he asked. “The trail dirt will ruin it.”
“It is only gold,” smiled Cherri. “You do want me to look the part of an important diplomat, don’t you?”
“Well, yes,” responded the Minister, “but it is such a fine robe. Well, I am sure you know what you are doing. I hope you will take care of your business and hurry back soon.”
“I will,” promised Cherri as she hugged the overweight Minister. “Here come the others now.”
Goral appeared around the corner of the building leading five horses, one of which had a litter attached. Kapla’s jaw dropped open as he stared at the giant leading the horses.
“That is your stable boy,” he sputtered.
“Yes,” chuckled Cherri softly. “I told you he was huge, but he has the mind of a child, poor thing. Don’t let him notice that you think he is tall. He is very self-conscious and may start to cry. I’m afraid the other children gave him such a terrible time when he was younger. We just treat him like a little boy and he is happy.”
Minister Kapla shook his head without comment and leaned to see who was in the litter. An old bear of a woman lay sleeping in the litter with a basket of sewing items next to her. She had a large gaudy necklace, which lay between her obviously uneven breasts and the stable boy swiftly covered her with a blanket and tucked it all around her.
“A good idea,” commended Cherri. “I wouldn’t want her to catch a cold in this night air. It may be fair to us, but she chills easily. I think we are ready to go, Minister. Lead the way.”
Kapla shook his head and turned to the rest of the party. “Okay,” he instructed, “I have papers identifying you, Cherri, as an important envoy to Khadora. If anyone asks what your mission is, just be vague and say that it is none of their business. If they need to know they can ask me, and only me, directly. That is pretty much what the papers say, so don’t stray from that line.” After a short moment he shook his head again. “I am afraid your travelling companions do not look much like an official escort, but the papers ought to hold. Try to avoid everyone you can. The less questions asked, the less risk for all of us. Only two people here in Okata know that this is happening and they are the men I had posted at the closest gate, so let’s move quickly.”
The Minister of Defense led the small procession through the dark city streets with Cherri at his side holding his hand. As they approached the gate, he signaled to the two guards and they swung the gates open for him. He gave Cherri a kiss good bye and then went to distract the guards so they would not see who was in the party, more out of embarrassment than a need for security as these two men were extremely loyal to him.
Cherri led the group along until they were outside the city gates and she waited while the gates were closed. Upon her signal, everyone mounted and Goral held the reins to the horse with the litter. Without a word, the small group moved down the road and out of sight.
***
“Why do you suppose he picked this spot on the coast to come ashore?” asked MistyTrail as she sat near the rim of the tall cliff looking out over the vast expanse of the sea. “I wouldn’t want to have to climb this cliff if I didn’t have to.”
“He didn’t pick it,” HawkShadow explained as he threw a small rock over the edge of the cliff. “StarWind chose it so that whoever met him would be safe. Nobody is going to make it up here to the top if we don’t want them to.”
“Sounds like StarWind didn’t trust this lord either,” snipped StormSong.
“StarWind trusts Sakovans,” responded HawkShadow. “It is not that she mistrusts this Marak, but she is right in taking every precaution where the Star’s life is concerned.”
“I don’t think he will even show,” added StormSong. “We haven’t seen a decent ship anywhere near land all day. They all travel well offshore in this area.”
“That is another reason that I think StarWind chose this spot,” stated HawkShadow. “The less people who know about this meeting the better.”
“What about that boat?” chirped MistyTrail. “It has been hugging the coast and it is getting closer to us.”
“That is an old fishing scow,” answered StormSong as she shook her head. “No lord would ride for hundreds of leagues in something like that. The stink of dead fish would permeate his clothing for days.”
The three Sakovans lapsed into silence for a time. HawkShadow sat throwing small pebbles over the cliff and watching them fall far below. StormSong sat leaning against a tree while she sharpened her blade and MistyTrail sat cross-legged, fiddling with the tall strands of grass. Through each of their minds paraded the thoughts of the strange events that were happening, or soon to happen, to disrupt the normalcy of Sakovan life.
“I am not so sure,” HawkShadow suddenly said. “The people on that fishing boat appear to be looking at the coast and they aren’t doing any fishing that I can see. I’ll bet they have been hugging the coast because they are not familiar with this area.”
“That’s what I think too,” grinned MistyTrail. “An old fishing boat is perfect cover. We didn’t even think it would be him so nobody else will either.”
StormSong sheathed her sword and crawled to the edge to watch the boat. “Maybe,” she conceded, “but if it is, I am sleeping on the other side of the camp from him.”
MistyTrail watched the boat carefully. It was an old vessel with a small cabin and a single mast, its sail fluttering slightly in the light breeze. One man handled the tiller while two others sat watching the coastline as they mended nets. One of the men mending the net suddenly stood and pointed. The man at the tiller nodded his head and turned the vessel towards the cove, the sails luffing slightly as he did so.
“They are turning in,” MistyTrail said excitedly. “It must be them.”
“Perhaps,” cautioned HawkShadow as he watched the progress of the ship.
The fishing boat continued and ran up on the beach. The two forward men jumped off and set an anchor in the sand as three new men appeared from the cabin. The men were dressed entirely in black, but HawkShadow’s eyes went to the tall blond man with the black cape.
“Pretty young to be a lord,” he said softly.
“They are probably just the guards,” surmised StormSong.
“No,” contradicted MistyTrail shaking her head vigorously. “See how the others defer to him. The one with the cape is obviously the leader.”
“There are supposed to be only three of them,” added HawkShadow. “I think MistyTrail is right this time.”
The tall young man with the cape leaped to the sand and shouted something to the man on the boat as his two black-clad companions jumped down beside him. The fishermen picked up the anchor and boarded the boat as they pushed it off the sand. Within a few moments, the ship was setting a course back to sea, leaving the three black-clad men stranded on the shore.
“Pretty lax with their security,” frowned StormSong. “His guards did not even take a defensive stand around him when he got off the boat and he dismissed the vessel before finding out if anyone was here to meet him.”
“I suppose that they are who we are waiting for,” HawkShadow stated as he retrieved a long rope from his choka. “At least we will find out when they climb the rope.”
StormSong rose and took an end of the rope and secured it to a tree as HawkShadow coiled it so it would not snag when he threw it over the edge.
“They disappeared,” called MistyTrail from her perch at the rim of the cliff. “I can’t see them anymore.”
StormSong and HawkShadow exchanged puzzled glances before they both dropped the rope and scrambled to the edge of the cliff.
“They are probably so close to the cliff wall that we cannot see them,” guessed HawkShadow.
“Careful,” cautioned StormSong, “the assassins were dark-clad as well and there are still twenty of them unaccounted for.”
“They can’t attack us any more than we can attack them now,” frowned HawkShadow. “It appears that they are not as lax on security as we thought.”
The song of a bowstring being released startled HawkShadow and he immediately flattened his body to the ground and pushed MistyTrail’s head back from the edge. He caught the sight of an arrow flying past him on its way skyward and scrambled back away from the edge. The arrow fell back out of the sky and thudded harmlessly to the ground some distance away. He glanced at it curiously and saw that it had no point on it, so he crawled over to it. Wrapped around the arrow, secured with a piece of thread, was a small slip of paper. He broke the thread and pulled the paper free of the arrow.
“It is Marak down there,” he declared as he read the note. “He wants to know the name of the person who met with his man in Okata.”
“How did he know someone would be up here?” asked MistyTrail.
“He was told that someone would meet him,” StormSong said. “We weren’t down on the beach, so he figured we must be up here. “I’ll tie the answer to the rope and we can throw it over the side.”
HawkShadow nodded as he rose, handed the paper to StormSong, and picked up the rope. StormSong scribbled StarWind’s name on the back of the slip of paper and tied it to the free end of the rope. When she had the note secured, HawkShadow threw the coil of rope over the edge and they waited with swords drawn. They watched as a lean, muscular man reached the lip of the cliff and pulled himself up. He was dressed completely in black except for silver wristbands, headband and waistband, each of which had the symbol of a sinuous sword stitched on them.
“I am Halman,” he proclaimed, “and I am escorting Lord Marak. May I ask who you are?”
HawkShadow stared at the man for a moment, studying his obvious military posture, before responding, “I am HawkShadow. This is StormSong and the little one is MistyTrail. We have been sent to meet you.”
“I am the leader,” chirped MistyTrail, shooting a look of annoyance at HawkShadow. “Tell the others to come up so we can leave quickly.”
“I understood that we were to meet Lyra here,” Halman objected. “Are there others nearby?”
“No,” answered MistyTrail. “We are going to take you to see her.”
“This is not what was arranged,” the Khadoran stated. “Why was a change made?”
MistyTrail looked puzzled and HawkShadow interrupted. “The Omungan Katana was assassinated after this meeting was arranged,” he explained. “I objected to our leader leaving the stronghold for safety reasons and she agreed that it would be safer for all if the meeting were held in StarCity. I hope this is not an inconvenience for Lord Marak.”
“I will find out,” Halman nodded as he grabbed the rope and disappeared over the edge of the cliff.
“Sorry, little one,” HawkShadow apologized after Halman left, “but we cannot keep an eye on the other two as long as we are distracted by this one. Better for all of them to be in the same place.”
“At least you didn’t introduce me as the elf,” smiled MistyTrail. “They certainly do appear to be cautious.”
“More so than I gave them credit for,” admitted StormSong. “That Halman just walked into the jaws of death for his lord. He makes me appreciate the fact that this lord is taking quite a risk as well by coming here.”
Within moments, Halman returned up the rope and waited while the other two black-clad figures ascended. The tall blond man with the cape stepped forward and held out his hand to MistyTrail.
“I am Marak,” he smiled. “I understand that you will lead our escort to StarCity, MistyTrail. I am pleased with the opportunity to see how the Sakovans live rather than meet in the wilderness.”
MistyTrail blushed slightly and straightened her posture as if suddenly aware of her short stature. “We are pleased to be given the honor of escorting you, Lord Marak,” she smiled.
“You must be StormSong,” Marak smiled as he extended his hand to the tall female Sakovan.
StormSong took his hand but merely nodded at the introduction and Marak turned towards HawkShadow and introduced himself.
“You have already met Halman,” Marak continued. “This is Gunta, my other escort. Are we going to ride on the famous Omungan birds?”
“Omungan?” spat StormSong. “An Omungan would not know a choka until it had ripped his throat out.”
“Sorry,” Marak apologized. “I guess the books that I have read tend to call everything on this side of the Kalatung Mountains Omungan. I would appreciate it if you would enlighten me whenever I chose the wrong words, StormSong. It would not speak well of me to make such mistakes when talking with your Star.”
StormSong’s brow furrowed as she tried to figure out if Lord Marak was sincere in his comments or making fun of her. In either case, she was not his tutor or babysitter so he would have to learn on his own. She wondered briefly about the books Marak had read and smiled when she thought about the difference in reading about something and actually confronting it. The choka might very well be Lord Marak’s first lesson on Sakovan hospitality.
“The trip to StarCity will require a longer stay for you, Lord Marak,” declared MistyTrail. “We should leave immediately so that you can return in time for your appointment with the boat.”
Marak nodded and followed MistyTrail through the trees to where the chokas were left. He stopped as soon as he sighted one and stared in wonder. He had read descriptions of the giant warbirds but had never seen one before. His eyes scanned the features of the ten-foot tall bird, especially the sharp claws at the end of its short forearms.
“Those claws look very sharp,” he noted. “How do they know friend from foe?”
“They know us,” HawkShadow answered. “They can also sense how we are feeling towards others around us. They will let you ride them because that is why we brought them, but if you were to try to steal one, it would kill you.”
“I will definitely not try to steal one then,” chuckled Marak. “Lead the way.”
HawkShadow held a choka while Marak mounted and then did the same for Gunta and Halman. Marak’s two escorts had not said a word since the Lord had reached the top of the cliff. They were silent shadows, observing everything and giving nothing away as their faces remained expressionless. MistyTrail signaled for StormSong to lead and rode alongside Lord Marak. Gunta and Halman followed closely with HawkShadow bringing up the rear. MistyTrail fought the urge to ask the thousand questions she had bundled inside as she observed the rules of trail silence and the column moved swiftly and quietly throughout the day.
Lord Marak also fought the urge to ask questions, questions that had been bottled up inside him since he had first read about Omunga. He had jumped at the chance to meet with the Sakovans, in part, to learn more about them. The books that he had read never spoke of the Sakovans, but Marak was beginning to think that the tomes were attributing the characteristics of the Sakovans to the Omungans. Before the trip was over, he would know the differences between the two peoples.
Sometime after high sun, Marak began seeing some of the huge ancient fargi trees that in Khadora were only found in the areas occupied by the indigenous Chula. Most Khadorans had never seen a fargi tree, but they were indirectly responsible for Lord Marak’s rise to power when he was given control of an estate where the previous leaders had been massacred for trying to clear a fargi forest on Chula land. By sunset the sevemor trees had vanished completely and the group rode through a dark and ominous forest populated with the old giants. That was when MistyTrail called for camp to be set up.
“May we help with the duties of setting up camp?” Marak asked as he dismounted his choka.
“We make a simple camp,” MistyTrail answered, “and I have stopped early tonight because I thought you would be weary from your long day of travel. StormSong and HawkShadow will have everything set up in no time, but thank you for asking. What did you think of your first ride on a choka?”
“It was thrilling,” beamed Marak. “If they are as good in battle as I have read, they would easily be my choice of a mount instead of a horse.”
“They are very much like having a partner in battle,” smiled MistyTrail. “You do appear to be enjoying yourself on this trip. I guess it is like a vacation for you.”
“Hardly,” Marak frowned. “I mean I am enjoying the trip and I anticipate learning a great deal about the Sakovans, which excites me, but it is hardly a vacation in which I can enjoy myself without thinking about the problems I have left behind. As much as I would have taken this trip just to learn about your people, my real reason is to discuss our mutual problems with the Omungans. Your news that the Katana has been assassinated disturbs me. Can you tell me if it was a Sakovan who killed him?”
“It was not,” frowned MistyTrail without her perpetual smile. “It is being portrayed as such though and there is really little difference when it comes right down to it. The Omungan government will use the excuse to wage war upon us. We should leave such weighty discussion to the Star though. It is not my place to speak of such things and I am curious about your homeland. Can you tell me what it is like?”
“I can try,” offered Marak. “I am not sure anyone can offer a short discussion of Khadora because the culture is so complex but I will do my best if you will reciprocate.”
MistyTrail nodded and smiled and Marak began describing Khadora to the young woman while StormSong and HawkShadow set up camp and Halman and Gunta tended to their weapons. The discussion was interrupted by a simple meal of fruits and dried meat and afterwards everyone sat around the small campfire HawkShadow had started. Marak and MistyTrail continued to share cultural experiences and trade humorous stories. HawkShadow, Halman, and Gunta listened to the conversation, but StormSong wandered off into the woods tired of the parlor talk about lords and ladies and wondering why her time was being wasted escorting some pampered youngster while the armies of Omunga were gathering to attack her home.
After a while, Marak rose and excused himself and strode out of the campsite. He heard rustling in the woods and stealthily moved towards the sounds. He stopped when he saw StormSong with her sword unsheathed going through the movements of battle. He stared at her for a while, watching her graceful but efficient movements, with admiration. Eventually, StormSong stopped dancing and Marak walked towards her. Her sword came up reflexively and angled towards his chest.
“Isn’t it a little early in your trip to be spying?” she snapped.
Marak raised his hands and backed up a few steps. “My apologies,” he offered. “I did not think admiring a warrior’s dance was considered spying in Sakova. In fact, I have never known anyone to shadow practice other than myself. You are very talented.”
“Well thank you my Lord,” she snapped sarcastically. “I don’t practice as a form of entertainment though. I practice to perfect my skills, not for some display of false ability.”
“As you should,” Marak sighed. “Have I offended you in some way, StormSong? I have detected your hostility since we met and if I have erred in my behavior, I would like to apologize and understand what it is that I have done.”
“Your behavior has been impeccable,” stated HawkShadow as he stepped out of the dark shadows. “StormSong probably just has a lot on her mind.”
“Do not apologize for me, HawkShadow,” berated StormSong. “I merely want to practice in peace without babysitting some youngster whose daddy made him a lord for his birthday.”
Marak smirked and shook his head. “Shadow dancing in a great way to stay in shape, StormSong” he said, “but it is more efficient to practice with a partner. Perhaps you will let me practice with you. A vigorous workout will peal that anger out of your system as the perspiration cleanses your pores.”
“Lord Marak,” HawkShadow interjected quickly knowing what it could mean to the upcoming meeting to have the Khadoran guest show up in bandages, “it is not a good idea to practice with StormSong. If you wish lessons, I will gladly offer myself for your training.”
“No, I might enjoy ridding myself of my anger,” sneered StormSong. “Better it be at night when the shiny hilt of your unused sword will not blind me by reflecting the sun.”
“Excellent,” smiled Marak as he removed his cape and tossed it aside. “What are the rules?” he asked as saw the rest of the party gathering around.
“There is only one rule,” snarled StormSong. “The match ends when you cry for mercy.”
“I will make a point of crying loudly then,” chuckled Marak as he drew the Sword of Torak, its long sinuous blade as black as the hilt that had been hidden under his cape.
HawkShadow’s face frowned at the sight of the ominous sword, but StormSong did not appear intimidated. She waited impatiently for the pampered lord to come at her. Marak held his sword awkwardly, as if he was not used to its feel in his hands, and moved towards StormSong. The Sakovan warrior lunged at him and Marak twirled his black blade upward deflecting his opponent’s sword. StormSong moved immediately to her left and spun, bringing her sword around in a deadly waist-high swing. Marak swiftly dropped to the ground and pivoted so that his feet swept into StormSong’s legs and she tumbled to the ground. StormSong jumped to her feet as swiftly as the Khadoran Lord and smiled at him.
Both warriors feinted and attacked, probing the other for weaknesses, for a while and then settled into a brutal match of clashing blades and amazing acrobatic displays. The match dragged on with Marak and StormSong perspiring heavily and still neither party seemed to gain the upper hand.
“Why is he holding back?” MistyTrail heard Halman whisper.
MistyTrail smiled as she heard Gunta reply, “He is accomplishing the mission at hand, which is breaking her anger without breaking her spirit. She is really a fantastic fighter. She may be holding back herself.”
After a grueling two hours, MistyTrail ordered a stop to the fighting. “As much as we are enjoying this display of fighting prowess,” she smiled, “we must get an early start in the morning.”
Marak and StormSong needed little excuse to stop as both of them were dripping wet and fatigued to the point of exhaustion. StormSong held her hand out to Lord Marak and he shook it firmly.
“You are a mighty fine warrior, StormSong,” congratulated Marak. “That was the best spar I have had in a long time.”
“You dropped your pampered Lord act too soon,” laughed StormSong. “I really enjoyed that fight. I would like to do it again before you leave.”
“As would I,” agreed Lord Marak. “Preferably somewhere where a bath is available afterwards though.”
Everyone laughed and the group moved back to the campsite where Marak and StormSong sat together with their backs against a huge fargi tree and talked for a while before turning in for the night.