* * *
The Torak walked the deserted streets of Sintula, his shadows watching for friendly eyes as well as those of the enemy. North of the city, the cavalries of the Lords’ Council sat patiently waiting to provide defensive cover for the retreating archers. The Motangans had finally managed to cross the river just before dawn, and they were currently marching westward towards Sintula. Within the hour the vanguard of Shamal’s troops would reach the city.
The Torak turned into an alley and halted. Halman and Gunta scanned the alley looking for any signs of life. There were none. Marak moved cautiously along the alley and halted at a nondescript door leading to a warehouse. He knocked on the door in a cryptic rhythm and waited. Halman and Gunta concealed their curiosity as they flanked the Torak. The door slowly opened, revealing a large darkened room. Halman immediately leaped through the door, his sword held menacingly before him. His eyes scanned the dim room, searching for inhabitants. Emperor Marak stepped into the room and motioned for Gunta to follow. The Torak closed the door, dimming the light even further.
“Relax,” Marak said softly to his shadows. “There is no one here to harm me.”
Halman and Gunta reluctantly sheathed their swords, but Marak chuckled inwardly as he saw both of them fist Sakovan stars.
“Time is short, Fisher,” the Torak said to the silent room. “Come into view before my shadows cause you harm.”
A pile of hay in the corner of the room moved. Halman and Gunta tensed as they watch a black-clad figure emerge from the pile. They relaxed somewhat when they recognized Fisher, but their eyes continued to scan the darkness.
“You are early,” Fisher said softly as he brushed off the hay and approached the Torak.
“Not by much,” shrugged Marak. “Is this where you will hide the horses?”
“They are in the far corner,” nodded the spy. “They are sleeping.”
“I would not have noticed them,” smiled the Torak. “Are you sure this place is secure enough to avoid detection?”
“It is the safest place in Sintula,” nodded Fisher. “I have checked them all out. The Motangans will not find us here.”
The Torak turned to face his shadows, confusion evident on their faces.
“I am leaving you two here to help Fisher,” he said softly.
“Leaving us?” objected Gunta. “That is not wise.”
“It is necessary,” replied the emperor. “Fisher will explain the details, but he needs your help after the Motangans pass through Sintula. I cannot think of three men who could possibly have a better chance at avoiding the enemy’s scrutiny when they pass through the city.”
“We do not mind the task, whatever it is,” frowned Halman, “but we are loathe to abandon you. The enemy is far too close for you to be unprotected.”
“I will be leaving on Myka,” replied the Torak. “Rest assured in the knowledge that I will not be unprotected. Your task is of vital importance.”
“What is the nature of this task?” asked Gunta.
Marak sighed and smiled tautly. He had planned to let Fisher reveal it, but he understood the hesitancy of his shadows. Their lives were sworn to protecting the Torak.
“Simply put,” answered Marak, “there is a bridge across the Khadora River that has escaped the notice of the Motangans. The bridge rests on the bed of the river. There are concealed ropes attached to it on each side of the river. You three must raise the northern side of the bridge as soon as the Motangans pass through Sintula. Fisher has all of the details and will brief you when the time comes.”
“I have a winch set aside to help us,” offered Fisher. “The whole task will only take a few hours.”
“And who will raise the other end?” asked Halman.
The Torak grinned and turned to leave.
* * *
The Motangan general walked into the tent and saluted. He stood silently waiting to be addressed.
“I understand that you have a prisoner,” stated Premer Cardijja as he turned away from General Luggar to face the new arrival.
“A boy,” nodded the general. “I think he may have valuable information. He was being chased by an elf, which he thought was an evil spirit.”
“Are you sure it was an elf?” asked the premer.
“That is what was reported,” shrugged the general. “I expect that our men know what an elf looks like. She was a mage as well. She cast fireballs at the boy.”
“Have him brought here,” demanded the premer. “I wish for nothing to be lost in the interrogation.”
“As you command,” frowned the general, obviously unhappy with the turn of events.
The general left the tent and Premer Cardijja returned to the map on the table. General Luggar looked at the premer curiously.
“Why bring him here?” asked Luggar. “The mages are better suited to extracting information from him.”
“The mages are just as likely to kill him in their enthusiasm to get information,” answered the premer. “They have certainly failed miserably with the past captives. I need to know where Angragar is, and I cannot wait any longer. The lad is quite possibly the best prospect we have captured. He will not be as worldly as the soldiers that we have interrogated.”
“I understand,” nodded General Luggar as two soldiers dragged Bakhai into the tent.
“Stop mishandling him,” scowled Premer Cardijja. “He is a guest here.”
The soldiers were taken by surprise by the premer’s orders. They helped Bakhai to his feet and then let go of his arms. They bowed curtly and backed out of the tent.
“Come have something to eat,” smiled the premer as he held out a plate of dried meat. “What is your name?”
“I am called Bakhai,” the lad said nervously as he reached for the food.
The premer watched the boy greedily swallow the food. He shook his head and smiled.
“Chew your food properly,” the premer said softly. “You can have more if you wish. I understand that you were being chased when my soldiers found you.”
Bakhai nodded exaggeratedly as he grabbed another piece of meat. “She was an evil spirit,” he volunteered.
“And why would an evil spirit chase you?” asked the premer.
“I do not know,” shrugged Bakhai. “I did nothing to offend her.”
“Where do you live?” the premer asked, trying a different tact.
“I live in the mountains,” answered Bakhai. “The forest is my home.”
“Do you know this land well?” asked Cardijja.
Bakhai nodded again as he chewed on another piece of meat. “Is there water?” he asked.
General Luggar filled a mug from the pitcher and handed it to Bakhai. The boy took the mug and smiled at the general. Luggar sighed with impatience.
“Have you heard of Angragar?” asked the premer.
“The lost city,” nodded Bakhai.
“Where is it?” asked Premer Cardijja.
Bakhai stared blankly at the premer as if he had asked a rhetorical question.
“You are wasting your time,” sighed General Luggar. “He knows nothing.”
Premer Cardijja glowered at the general and then quickly smiled at the lad. “Do you know where Angragar is?” the premer asked again.
“It is lost,” shrugged Bakhai as he gulped down some water. “That is why it is called the lost city.”
“Well I want to find it,” the premer said with a smile. “Perhaps you can tell me where not to look for it?”
Bakhai’s mind raced to figure out how he should answer the question. He realized that he had already determined that Cardijja did not know the location of Angragar, but he thought that there might be more that he could do while he had the ear of the premer.
“I know many places that it is not,” offered Bakhai. “Maybe that is why the evil spirit was chasing me,” he added with seemingly sudden understanding. “I tried going to a new place and she attacked without warning.”