Island of Darkness (8 page)

“It has not weathered the years as well as Angragar,” he said softly.

“It has not been magically preserved as the old Qubari city has been,” replied Ukaro. “You will find no hellsouls here.”

“What will I find here?” asked Marak. “Why have you brought me here?”

“This is Changragar,” shrugged the Chula shaman. “This is where the Torak will be born.”

“I thought I was the Torak,” frowned Marak. “Is that not what the Chula have been calling me?”

“It is,” nodded Ukaro, “but we are only human. We recognize you as the Torak because all of the signs point to the truth of it. Still, only Kaltara can anoint you. That is why you are here.”

“Do you expect me to believe that god lives here?” questioned Marak. “This rundown temple is hardly a fitting mansion for Kaltara.”

“Were it a slave shack,” frowned Ukaro, “it would be holy to the Chula. You need to have more respect for Kaltara.”

“I am sorry, Father,” apologized Marak. “I do have a hard time understanding this god of yours. Why am I supposed to be the Torak? Why not a believing Chula?”

“Do not question things that you have no chance of comprehending,” admonished the shaman.

“Alright,” sighed Marak. “What do I do now?”

Ukaro pointed to a small set of steps leading to another doorway. “Enter the sanctuary and pray,” instructed the shaman. “I will wait for you here.”

Marak shrugged and marched up the short flight of steps. He entered a circular room that was devoid of anything except a lone torch holder. Marak walked to the center of the room and placed his torch in the holder. The light from the torch barely reached the walls of the room.

Marak stood in the center of the room for several minutes wondering what he was supposed to do. He had never been taught to pray. He did not even know how to pray. He felt very foolish. At first his eyes scanned the room looking for imperfections in the construction. Then he started whistling to himself and studying the mosaic design of the floor tiles. When enough time had elapsed that he thought Ukaro would be satisfied, Marak reached for the torch to leave the room. As he reached for it, a cold wind swept into the room and blew the torch out.

Marak froze with his hand extended towards the torch. His eyes tried to scan the room, but he could see nothing. He stood erect and turned, trying to find the entrance doorway, but he could not see as far as the wall of the round room.

“Do you believe only in yourself?” boomed a voice from the darkness.

A knife immediately slid into Marak’s hand as he tried to gauge the direction of the voice.

“Drop your weapon and kneel,” commanded the voice.

Marak started turning slowly as the voice spoke. Try as he might, he was unable to determine which direction the voice had come from. Suddenly, Marak’s knees buckled. He tried frustratingly to keep his legs straight, but he could not. He fell to his knees painfully. As if someone had grabbed his hand and forced his fingers open, his hand straightened and he heard the knife fall to the tiled floor.

“You are stubborn, Marak,” scowled the voice. “That can be a virtue, but not here, and not now. Why do you try to deny me?”

“Because I don’t know you,” Marak heard himself respond.

“Yet you have expressed a desire to know me,” replied the voice. “You came close in the prison of the Khadorans. Again the night before the battle at Balomar, you reached out to me. Now you find yourself in my presence, and you do not believe.”

Marak’s mouth opened in awe. No mortal could possibly know his private thoughts at those two times.

“Kaltara?” Marak said meekly. “You are real?”

“If you were looking for a false god,” replied the voice, “you should have gone to Motanga. What must I do to convince you that I am real?”

“I don’t know,” admitted Marak. “I want to believe in you very much. I need to believe in you for the sake of my people.”

“No, Marak,” responded the voice. “The people are not yours. They are mine. You are my Torak, but the people belong to me.”

Silence reigned over Marak for several minutes. For some unexplainable reason, he feared that Kaltara had left him.

“I will never leave you,” promised Kaltara. “The question is, will you ever leave me?”

“I will not,” promised Marak.

“We shall see,” countered the voice. “What do you want to know?”

“I must know of this great evil that is to come against my people,” declared Marak. “I mean your people.”

“You may call them your people if you wish,” replied the voice, “as long as you understand that they are truly mine. I would like you to deal with them as if they were your own. You have shown that you have the compassion to do that.”

“And the evil?” reminded Marak.

“As it was written, so shall it be,” replied the voice. “In the Time of Calling, memories will be recalled. You will learn of the followers of Vand. What else do you want to know?”

“Will we succeed in defeating this evil?” inquired Marak.

“That is the question that you must answer, Marak,” replied the voice. “Were I to destroy Vand myself, I would give credence to his claim to be a god. Destroying him is the task of the Torak. As Vand is merely a person, it shall fall upon the people to defeat him. I have endowed you with the skills necessary to complete the task. I have given you that which was promised thousands of years ago. The rest is up to you.”

“Then I vow to accomplish this task,” declared Marak. “I will not let the people down.”

“Or me,” the voice responded with a touch of humor. “Those are the words I have been waiting to hear from your lips, Torak. You show great promise. I am most pleased with what you have done so far. You will go forth from this sacred temple a new man. You will leave here as the Torak. Sleep now.”

Marak frowned at the invitation to sleep. He still had not had his questions about Vand answered. He needed to know the nature of the evil that would come. Even as he tried to rise to his feet, his body began to grow limp. His eyelids felt exceedingly heavy and his knees began to feel like they were sinking into deep mud. Despite his efforts to rise, Marak found himself lying on the floor.

Suddenly, the whole room burst into brilliance. He found himself staring upward at the domed ceiling. With the walls of the room being round, he had the feeling of gazing into an illuminated bowl. Pictures began to flash across the ceiling and the walls. They flashed by so quickly that his mind seemed to interpret them only after they were gone. He recognized Angragar, even though it appeared as a thriving modern city. He saw a fiery speaker standing upon the steps of the temple. The people were throwing stones at him. Somehow he recognized the man as a priest. The priest’s name was Vand.

He saw hundreds of people being chased out of the city of Angragar by angry mobs. As the scenes speeded by, he saw the building of the temple of Vandegar. He saw the great battle where the sea rose up and carried off millions of people. He saw the survivors flee to the coast and board ships.

The images moved with increasing fury. He saw a tropical island, lush with jungle vegetation. He saw a great pyramid erected in a flash. He saw the people multiply exponentially. He saw great apes talking and walking like people. He saw great shipyards and cavernous mines. He saw death and destruction. The images turned dark as he watched rituals of human sacrifice, the drinking of human blood, and punishment by amputation.

The people rebelled. They fought against the dark forces, but they were no match for the evil. The large apes charged by the thousands and tore the rebels apart. Great magicians cast destruction down on the cities. The people raced to the harbor. They boarded great ships and fled.

The images now placed him onboard one of the great ships. He watched with wonder as land appeared on the horizon. He had the fearful urge to look back at where they had fled from, but he could not turn his head. Suddenly, the land raced up to meet the ship. Everyone jumped off the ship and waded through the pristine harbor. He heard the order to burn the ships and prepare for battle. He recognized the place. It was Raven’s Point.

* * *

Aakuta woke groggily. He sat up and rubbed his eyes as he gazed around the room. It took a few seconds for him to recognize the home of Lady Mystic. He rose and dressed. He stumbled into the kitchen and poured a cup of tea. As his senses began to register, he realized that he was alone. He moved swiftly through the home in search of the homeowner. Fear began to gnaw at him as he wondered if Lady Mystic was out summoning the authorities.

Suddenly, he heard the door open. He pulled his hood on and flattened his back to the wall of the laboratory. He waited to see who would enter the room.

“What are you doing?” scowled Lady Mystic as she dumped some packages on a chair near the table.

“Where have you been?” Aakuta asked accusingly.

“Where have I been?” echoed Lady Mystic as deep furrows filled her brow. “I have been out taking care of you. I destroyed the boat you left in the forbidden area. Did you think that someone would not find it? Don’t you realize that would have started a search for the intruder?”

“I didn’t know,” apologized Aakuta as he moved to the table and sat down. “I am sorry.”

“I also disposed of that krul child you killed on the beach,” Lady Mystic continued. “Such a fiery death would certainly cause alarms to sound.”

“Child?” frowned Aakuta. “That thing was over seven feet tall.”

“Child,” repeated Lady Mystic. “The average krul is at least ten feet. Some grow to over fifteen feet. Here, try this on,” she added as she tossed a package to Aakuta.

Aakuta opened the package and saw a fine black cloak with a hood. His eyes opened wide in appreciation of the fine craftsmanship. He stood up and held the garment before him. Nodding, he stripped off his hooded cloak and dropped it on the floor. He pulled the new cloak on.

“Much better,” smiled lady Mystic. “You might have gotten by with the old one, but why take chances. Why didn’t you take Smarc’s when you killed him?”

“Smarc was a skinny thing,” shrugged Aakuta. “I could never fit in anything that small.”

“Well, you are a large man,” grinned Lady Mystic. “At least you are properly dressed now. I did not want to be seen in public with you wearing those old rags.”

“In public?” echoed Aakuta. “Why are you doing this for me? Surely you will get in trouble if you are caught with me?”

“Then you had best not do anything to arouse suspicion,” smiled Lady Mystic. “At least not until you have met with Vand. Until then, I think I will enjoy having you around. This island can get quite boring at times. Finish your tea. I want to show you the sights.”

Aakuta finished his tea and placed the cup on the laboratory table. He looked quizzically at the woman and then shrugged with a devilish smile.

“Lead on, Lady Mystic,” he said. “Show me the sights of Motanga.”

Lady Mystic smiled as she opened the door and stepped into the alley. After Aakuta had joined her, she waved her hand over the door to seal it.

“I take it you don’t trust the natives?” Aakuta asked as one eyebrow rose.

“Trust is such a misunderstood word,” chuckled Lady Mystic. “I trust that some people would not think twice about entering my home and making off with everything they could carry. So, in a sense, I trust the natives a great deal.”

Aakuta shook his head and chuckled. He walked silently alongside the woman as she led him onto a wide boulevard. His eyes constantly moved to take in the sights of the strange city. The shops lining the street were much like the stores that one would find in any city, but there was something different about them. Aakuta could not put his finger on it, but there was a feeling of death in the air.

As he studied each passerby with curiosity, he noticed two distinct types of men. Some wore black cloaks and hoods as he did. The others wore bright red uniforms and were obviously military men. The women wore a variety of clothing. Some were hooded similarly to the men, while others wore colorful dresses. Some women wore only plain brown tunics, and Aakuta wondered if they were slaves.

Lady Mystic did not narrate on the journey. She walked at a moderate pace, and Aakuta noticed that she was trying to give a complete tour of the city as she continually backtracked on parallel streets. Eventually they emerged from the houses and shops into a wide plaza. Fine stonework covered the ground for hundreds of paces right down to the harbor’s edge.

When they reached the quay, Aakuta stopped and stared out into the harbor. Dozens of huge ships were anchored offshore. The vessels were obviously new and had not been weathered yet.

“They are large,” Aakuta commented softly.

“They must be to transport the armies,” replied Lady Mystic. “Come this way. I will show you the shipyards.”

Lady Mystic led the way along the quay. They walked for fifteen minutes and around the natural curve of the island. Lady Mystic halted when Aakuta suddenly stopped and stared at the shipyards. A series of monstrous frameworks rose high above the island. Cradled in each of the frameworks was a huge ship under construction. Hundreds of workman moved over the frameworks like tiny ants streaming in every direction. While the ships had looked large in the harbor, they were gigantic up close.

“They must carry a thousand men each,” gasped Aakuta.

“Easily,” remarked Lady Mystic. “This is not the only shipyard, either. There are three others scattered around the island. The army sent forth from Motanga will be the largest ever seen since the fall of Vandegar.”

“Why are you showing me all of this?” frowned Aakuta. “I must presume that the building of this great navy is a closely held secret of Vand’s.”

“As secret as he can keep it,” nodded Lady Mystic. “Any ship sailing near Motanga is intercepted. The crews are either destroyed or captured. The ships are sunk. The arrival of your small ship would be an embarrassment to the authorities. Perhaps your clothing was sufficiently close enough to local garb to spare you from close scrutiny.”

“But you didn’t answer my question,” prompted Aakuta. “Why are you showing me these things?”

“I am not sure,” Lady Mystic admitted after a slight hesitation. “I don’t expect that you will ever leave this island, but I suppose there is more to it. I wanted to see your reaction to gauge where your sentiments lie.”