“You know as well?” Marak asked in surprise. “How can this be?”
“Am I the only one in the dark?” asked Lord Faliman of the Aritor clan. “I demand to know what is being discussed. There must be no secrets between us if we are to defeat the Motangans.”
Lord Patel sighed and nodded at the Aritor lord. “Faliman is right,” he said softly. “It is hardly a secret to anyone who has been paying attention to events around them. We have been told about the Time of Calling. We know that it is heralded in by mixed marriages. We also know that the Astor is half Qubari, and the Star of Sakova is half Sakovan. Your secret, Torak, should be a surprise to no one.”
Marak smiled tautly and nodded. He inhaled deeply and said, “I am half Chula. My father is Ukaro, head shaman of the Zatong tribe.”
Silence and shocked faces surrounded the group after the Torak’s announcement. While the members of the Lords’ Council nodded with understanding, the other lords gasped openly. It was an awkward moment, but Marak felt unburdened that the truth was finally known. Unexpectedly, Lord Kiamesh started laughing.
“That’s it?” chuckled Lord Kiamesh. “Your big secret is that your father was a Chula? For a moment I thought you might reveal that you were a mage or rode a pet dragon.”
“Or that you were the first Emperor of Khadora to unite all of the people of this continent in a common cause,” grinned Lord Chenowith.
“Or that you were the most accomplished warrior ever to walk the fields of Khadora,” smiled Lord Quilo. “It is no small wonder about your Chula heritage. I have learned to appreciate the Chula after witnessing what they are capable of. They did, after all, take Alamar with only a thousand men.”
The other lords lost their expressions of shock and started nodding in agreement. Lord Patel ordered ale for the lords and led the group in a toast to the Torak. When the short moment of merriment was complete, the Lords’ Council and the Torak retired to Lord Patel’s tent.
“Thank you for what you did out there,” Marak said quietly to the members of the Lords’ Council. “I know that your public reactions will soften the shock when the rumors spread.”
“I do not know about the shock,” replied Lord Quilo, “but our words were heartfelt. We Khadorans have lived too long under false pretenses. We should never be afraid of the truth. We are, after all, a people who have claimed to highly value the truth. We should not run from it when it stares us in the face.”
“I agree,” nodded Lord Chenowith. “Let there never be secrets between us again.”
“Speaking of secrets and magic,” frowned Lord Faliman. “There is something that has been bothering me about this war that we are waging.”
“Speak,” the Torak responded.
“You have pioneered the use of battle mages,” Lord Faliman continued. “I have heard glowing remarks about their use at the Battle of Balomar, and I know that we have thousands of mages at the trenches, yet all they do is get in the way of the retreats. Why have we not used their magical abilities?”
“A fair question,” nodded Marak, “and it does fall under the category of closely held secrets. Not even the commanders in the field understand what the mages are out there for. Perhaps that is wrong of me, but I will explain it to you now.”
The other lords nodded and waited anxiously for the explanation.
“My mother, Glenda, is a mage,” stated Emperor Marak. “She is currently leading the mages at the trenches. The instructions that I gave her were to aid the field commanders in any way that they could, but not to unleash their full fury until the appropriate time.”
“And when is the appropriate time?” frowned Lord Kiamesh. “We have large losses at the trenches. Soldiers are dying to ensure the safe retreat of the mages, and yet the mages do little to warrant their being near the front. It would seem prudent to me to utilize every weapon at our disposal.”
“The mages could be used to kill more Motangan soldiers,” admitted Marak, “but I think there is a more important use for them. We know that the Motangans have a large contingent of their own mages, but we do not know what their capabilities are. I have instructed Glenda to use the full fury of our mages as soon as the Motangan mages make their move. It is extremely important to eliminate magical threats to our armies.”
“So Glenda will act on her own when the time comes?” asked Lord Patel. “The commanders will not know that it is coming?”
“Precisely,” nodded Marak. “I cannot describe to the commanders under what circumstances our mages will attack because I do not know. Only an experienced mage will know when the time is right.”
“Isn’t there another mage who could handle that duty?” asked Lord Chenowith. “Putting your mother on the front lines is an extreme sacrifice. Your whole family is likely to die in this war.”
“We may all die,” shrugged the Torak. “Besides, I did not appoint Glenda to her task. She was chosen by the other mages to lead them. I trust in their judgment now, as I always have.”
* * *
HawkShadow and StarWind approached the Motangan encampment in the Sakovan heartland. Once again, HawkShadow carried the large makeshift white flag. There was no bantering from the Motangan encampment, although archers immediately took up position as the Sakovans approached. The Sakovans halted where they had the day before and waited silently. The minutes passed by slowly, but eventually Premer Doralin and General Valatosa came into view. They walked to the perimeter of the Motangan encampment and waved the Sakovans closer. HawkShadow and StarWind exchanged nervous glances, but they eventually nodded and walked forward.
“You should have come forward to meet us halfway,” frowned HawkShadow when they were close enough to be heard.
“There is no half way,” replied Premer Doralin. “Inside this perimeter is Motangan land; outside is Sakovan. Therefore, the perimeter is half way. Speak your piece.”
“We have come once again to request a truce and meeting between Premer Doralin and the Star of Sakova,” declared StarWind. “Will you agree to such a meeting?”
“Define your terms for a truce,” countered the Motangan premer.
“There will be no fighting between us,” replied HawkShadow. “Your people will not leave the encampment, and ours will not enter it.”
“That would prohibit us from having scouts,” frowned General Valatosa. “And what about supply deliveries?”
“I should think yesterday’s delivery is evidence enough that you will not be receiving any more,” retorted HawkShadow. “As for your scouts, keep your men inside the perimeter where they will be safe.”
“You arrogant pup,” growled General Valatosa.
Premer Doralin raised his hand for silence. He glared at HawkShadow, but he spoke softly and calmly.
“I will meet with the Star of Sakova,” he declared, “but only on my terms. The truce will begin when the Star of Sakova comes into view, and it will end when she disappears from view. If you intend to continue to interrupt our supply caravans, you will do so at great risk to your forces.”
“You want the Star of Sakova to stand here in range of your archers?” gasped StarWind. “That is unacceptable.”
“The meeting will be held in my tent in the center of our encampment,” replied Premer Doralin. “I am sure you remember the way there, StarWind. Regarding my archers, I will personally guarantee the safety of the Star of Sakova and her party, which must not number more than two others. That is my offer. Take it or leave it.”
“You are mad,” spat HawkShadow.
StarWind gently placed her hand on HawkShadow’s arm as she watched the Motangan premer shake his head and begin to turn around.
“Your terms are acceptable,” StarWind said loudly, “but I will hold you personally responsible for her safety, Doralin. If harm comes to the Star of Sakova, your life is forfeit. You know that we are quite capable of infiltrating your encampment. We have done it before, and we will do it again.”
The premer turned and glared at StarWind, but he nodded slowly before turning and marching towards the center of the Motangan encampment.