Aakuta: the Dark Mage (35 page)

When he returned for the second set of animals, Aakuta was snoring. He gazed warily at the dark mage sleeping in the bed of one of the wagons. He quietly took the next group of animals to the new lake. By the time he had watered all of the animals, the sun was dipping behind the Fortung Mountains. As the air began to cool, Aakuta sat up and yawned.

“Get some rest,” ordered Aakuta. “Tomorrow will be a hard day for you.”

Werner needed no prompting to fall asleep. He felt exhausted and did not even care that he had missed his evening meal.

When he awoke, Werner sat up and gazed about. His jaw dropped in surprise as he looked around. He shook his head several times to awake from his dream, but it was not a dream. He leaped off of the wagon and looked towards the new lake. The shores of the lake were green with grass, and tall palm trees towered upward around it. Aakuta sat on a rock devouring a coconut.

“Come and eat,” commanded Aakuta as he saw Werner moving about. “You will need your energy today.”

“What has happened here?” Werner asked as he approached the mage.

“The land is reclaiming its life,” shrugged Aakuta. “This used to be fertile land at one time. Wizards have salted it with magic to make a desert.”

“But you are creating it,” Werner shook his head. “I saw what you did yesterday.”

“I am only helping,” stated Aakuta. “Long ago there was a lake in that very spot. It is spring fed, in fact. It will once again hold water and nourish this land.”

“Why are we here, Aakuta?” Werner asked cautiously. “You have enough gold to live in a fine mansion. Why do you choose this desert?”

“We will live in a mansion soon enough,” Aakuta answered cryptically. “For now, this is our home.”

“If you say so,” shrugged Werner. “What tasks do you have for me today?”

“Your first task is to build pens for the animals,” the mage replied.

“We have nothing to build with,” frowned Werner. “How can I build pens with no wood?”

“You will use the wood from the wagons,” instructed Aakuta. “We need a pen for the wasooki and one for the clova. Make the pens as large as the wood supply allows. For now we will just tie the horses to the outside of the pens. Later, we will need corrals.”

“Later?” Werner echoed as his eyebrows rose. “You are planning on staying here for some time?”

“For some time,” nodded the dark mage. “You, however, will be leaving soon. I have other tasks in mind for you.”

“You want me to spread the seed we bought over this desert?” asked Werner.

“No,” Aakuta shook his head, “I can accomplish that much easier than you can. You are going hunting.”

“Hunting?” echoed Werner. “I doubt there is much game in these parts. What am I to hunt?”

“People,” smirked the dark mage. “I understand that there are thousands of Jiadin running loose in this foul land. You are going to hunt them down.”

Werner swallowed the lump in his throat and exhaled loudly. “You want me to hunt the Jiadin?” he asked in a whisper. “By myself? I am no coward, Aakuta, but I think we should talk about this. I have heard tales of the Jiadin. They are not to be taken lightly. They would cut your throat for one of those clova we brought with us.”

“You are not going to kill them,” chuckled the magician. “You are going to bring them to me. Let me worry about them cutting my throat. The Jiadin do not scare me any more than your feeble armies in Khadora.”

“Still,” Werner said hesitantly, “the Jiadin will kill us both for your food.”

“It is not my food,” retorted Aakuta. “It is their food. You will tell them of this secret lush valley that has food aplenty. Gathering them will not be hard. You just go find them, and bring them to me. I will handle the rest.”

“They will not be pleased when they arrive to this desert that I described as a lush valley,” Werner shook his head. “Even that lake and palm trees will not satisfy them.”

“It will be lush before you return with the first of the Jiadin,” promised Aakuta. “You must learn to trust me, Werner.”

“I will try,” promised the Khadoran. “Where will I find these Jiadin?”

“You will find them in ones and twos all over this land,” the dark mage replied. “Make sure that they wear the red scarf. I do not want anyone else knowing of this valley. You will never give directions to this place. You will personally guide each group here. Do you see that rock at the base of the mountains that looks like a ram?”

Werner turned and gazed at the mountains. His eyes scanned the bare rocks until he saw the one that Aakuta was referring to.

“I see it,” nodded Werner.

“When you find Jiadin,” instructed the mage, “you will bring them along the base of the mountains until you see that rock. Only then will you move away from the base of the mountains. This is very important, Werner. Do you understand?”

“I think so,” nodded Werner, “but can I ask why my approach is so important?”

“I will not let others see the valley that I am about to create,” explained Aakuta. “Only you and I will know how to enter it. To anyone crossing this barren desert, this valley will not exist. You see, there is to be a price for the Jiadin who come here. I will not allow them to leave and then lead others here. Only the two of us will know the entrance. Do not describe the ram rock to anyone.”

“It shall be as you wish,” nodded Werner, “but I do not see how you can hide this valley from others. Surely, anyone who happens across it will see the lake.”

Aakuta shook his head and scowled as he waved his hand in the air. “Do you see the lake now?” he asked.

Werner turned to gaze at the lake. His mouth hung open as his eyes scanned the surface of the desert. There was no lake to be seen. There were no palm trees. There was nothing as far as his eyes could see.

“How did you do that?” gasped Werner.

Aakuta shook his head as he made the lake reappear. He turned and glared at Werner.

“Never, ever doubt me again,” scowled the dark mage. “I do not like wasting my powers to prove myself to those who do not understand. You will do what I require, or I shall dispense with you. That is all that you need to know. Now, go build those pens.”

Werner felt a chill run through his body as the dark mage glared at him. His limbs began to shake uncontrollably, and he forced himself to turn away from the dark eyes piercing his soul. As he stumbled away from Aakuta, he promised himself that he would never question the dark mage’s orders again.

The sun had not yet cleared the Fortung Mountains to the east, and a light fog blanketed the land. Early workers on the Devon clan estate moved about unhurriedly as they readied for a new day of work. Some of the white and black clad soldiers were cleaning up in a large basin of water alongside the barracks. Others were stretching or doing their morning exercises. Several women were tending to the chickens. It was the start of a normal day for the Devon clan.

The first hint of trouble came, ironically, from a small boy playing with his dog. As he tried to teach his puppy to fetch, the dog began barking as it stared into the tall fields of corn. The young boy tried calling the puppy, but it was too engrossed with whatever was in the cornfield. The boy pouted and then walked towards the dog to carry him away. Suddenly, an arrow flew from the cornfield and silenced the barking dog. The little boy halted as confusion clouded his features. He looked at the dead dog and then stared into the cornfield. Something moved, and the young boy screamed. He turned and ran towards the mansion as fast as he could, but he could not outrun the arrow that slammed into his back.

The women feeding the chickens heard the boy’s scream. They turned and saw the boy fall. One of the women ran towards the boy, thinking he had just fallen. The other women watched in horror as the soldiers in blue and yellow streamed out of the cornfield. Several arrows sought out the first woman, and she tumbled to the ground before she ever reached the young boy.

“Vessi!” shouted one of the women feeding the chickens.

In seconds the call was repeated all around the mansion of Lord Hanold, but the warning was far too late. Hordes of Vessi archers rode through the front gate, easily dispatching the two Devon sentries. Hundreds of Vessi swordsmen charged out of the cornfields, the mature crop trampled under their boots. More Vessi cavalrymen charged through the small peach orchard on one side of the mansion, while Vessi archers rained arrows on the barracks area on the other side of the mansion. The Vessi attackers struck down anyone who moved in the early morning mist.

Within moments, thousands of Vessi soldiers were swarming over the small Devon estate. One rider, wearing the plumes of a cortain in the Vessi army, dismounted at the front of the mansion. Other Vessi soldiers soon dismounted near him.

“Nobody leaves the mansion,” the cortain ordered. “Round them up and bring them to the meeting room. Move!”

The Vessi soldiers threw open the door and charged into the mansion. After the long line of soldiers entered, the cortain casually walked through the doorway. He stopped inside the get his bearings and locate the meeting room. A young woman ran from under the stairs carrying a young boy. She tried to race out the front door, but the cortain was ready for her. He pulled his sword and caught her in the side as she tried to race by. She fell to the floor soundlessly, but the young boy began crying. The cortain grabbed the young boy by his arm and dragged him towards the meeting room.

“Somebody guard the front door,” shouted the cortain. “I said nobody was to escape.”

A soldier ran out of a nearby room and took up a position at the front door. The cortain kicked open the door of the meeting room and marched in. He dumped the boy on the floor and strode to the long table. He pulled at the chair at the head of the table and sat down where the lord of the Devon clan would normally sit. Within moments, Vessi soldiers began dragging people into the meeting room. One of the people shoved into the meeting room was recognizable to the cortain.

“Sit, Lord Hanold,” commanded the cortain.

The lord of the Devon clan pulled out a chair and sat down. “Who are you?” he asked. “And what is the meaning of this attack?”

“I am Cortain Skara,” answered the cortain, “and I will be asking the questions, not you. Who is your seneschal?”

Lord Hanold refused to answer. His eyes glared at the Vessi cortain, but his lips remained sealed. Cortain Skara looked around the room. His eyes came to rest on an old woman, and he nodded to one of his men. The Vessi soldier marched over to the old woman and ran his sword through her chest.

“Who is your seneschal?” Cortain Skara repeated.

Lord Hanold remained unmoved by the execution. He refused to answer. Suddenly, an old white-haired man stepped forward.

“I am the seneschal,” offered the old man. “What do you want with me?”

“I want to know the number of people authorized to wear the family pin,” demanded Cortain Skara.

“Fourteen,” answered the seneschal.

“Point them out,” ordered the Vessi cortain.

The old man frowned, but he walked around the room pointing to Lord Hanold’s family members. As he pointed someone out, a nearby soldier would push them towards the table and tell them to sit. The small boy that the cortain dragged into the room was the last to be seated. Cortain Skara counted the family members and smiled.

“Take the rest of them out of here,” ordered Cortain Skara. “Put them to work cleaning up this place. And have the morning meal prepared. I will dine in the lord’s suite.”

The Vessi soldiers shoved the people out of the meeting room, except for the lord and his family. Cortain Skara rose and walked to the door. He signaled for several of his men to return to the room.

“Kill them all,” he commanded as he pointed into the meeting room. “Then get someone to clean up the mess.”

Cortain Skara ignored the screams as he loped up the stairs in search of the lord’s suite.

* * *

The incessant hammering pounded in Lord Marak’s head. He rolled over and the sunshine lit up his face. Slowly, he opened his eyes and saw that it was daylight out. He leaped out of bed and pulled his clothes on.

“It is about time that you got up,” quipped Botal as he stuck his head in the door. “Would you care for a morning meal?”

“Very much so,” answered Lord Marak. “What is all that hammering?”

“You wanted this house completed quickly,” replied Botal. “Norman has crews working on it from first light until the sun sets. I am surprised that you could sleep through that racket.”

“Not arriving until the middle of the night might have something to do with it,” groused Lord Marak. “Has Norman solved the problem of stabling our horses?”

“He has a great idea that he wanted to talk to you about,” nodded Botal. “There is enough room to expand the building if we are willing to give up the alley that runs between this house and the next.”

“I would prefer larger stables to an alley,” remarked Lord Marak. “Tell him to go ahead with it. Make sure he understands that I want to keep the number of Torak horses in the stables hidden from prying eyes.”

“He is well aware of you concerns,” smiled Botal. “Let me get you some food, and I will tell you the rest of the news.”

Lord Marak nodded sleepily. He was normally a rather light sleeper, rising before dawn, but the last few days running around to all of the Nordon estates to receive the Vows of Service had taken its toll. They had not arrived back in Khadoratung until the wee hours of the morning. He wondered what time it was and looked out the window to gauge the height of the sun. He blinked several times as he realized that half the morning was already gone.

Lord Marak cleaned up in a basin and ran downstairs. Construction debris was everywhere, as were the workers. The workers had been drawn from various Torak estates, and most of them greeted him as he ran by. He nodded silently and made his way to the dining room. Mistake, StarWind, and HawkShadow were already there.

“Morning, Your Highness,” grinned Mistake. “Had enough beauty sleep?”

“You are lucky my eyes are still filled with sleep,” grumbled Lord Marak, “or I would hit you with a Sakovan star.”