“And only a small part of his plan,” added Lord Quilo as he joined the group. “I am beginning to feel optimistic about our chances for the first time. Even if everything else doesn’t come together quite right, we should be able to hold this berm for a long time.”
“Let’s get to the other side and see the guts of it,” suggested Lord Kiamesh.
“It is only fair to wait for Lord Jamarat and Lord Faliman first,” replied Lord Chenowith. “It would be good for the morale of the troops to see the Lords’ Council ride in as one.”
* * *
Fisher slid down the rope from the trap door in the roof. He landed noiselessly on the floor of the abandoned warehouse and was immediately joined by Halman and Gunta.
“The last of the Motangans have passed through,” Fisher announced. “The supply train was endless. I thought it might be morning before we had a chance to get out of here.”
“Do you think the delay will cause problems?” asked Gunta.
“I cannot say,” answered Fisher. “In any event, we had no choice. I would not dare to resurrect the bridge until the Motangans were gone. Let’s move quickly.”
The three black-clad warriors retrieved their horses and led them out of the warehouse. It was only a short distance to the river where Fisher handed his horse to Halman and walked out onto the dock. Kneeling on the dock, the spy reached under the wooden structure and grabbed a string. Holding the string tightly, he walked off the dock and along the wharf to a point near the winch. He gently pulled on the string until a sturdy rope appeared. Grabbing the rope firmly, Fisher called softly for his horse. Halman brought it to him, and Fisher tied the rope to his saddle.
“There will be two more ropes knotted to this one,” explained Fisher. “When they come up out of the river, tie them to your horses.”
Halman and Gunta nodded as Fisher led his horse forward. As the horse moved away from the river, the rope rose out of the water. Eventually it came out far enough for the Torak’s shadows to grab the two additional ropes. They untied the ropes and secured them to their horses. When the ropes were tied securely, Fisher led his horse forward to the wall of the nearest building. Set in concrete at the base of the building was a large winch. Fisher untied his rope and fed it into the winch. He turned and grinned at his partners.
“We need to light a torch to alert those on the other side of the river,” announced Fisher.
“Who is waiting over there?” asked Gunta, his eyes straining to see across the river.
“All I know is that they are friends,” shrugged Fisher. “There must be a lot of them if Marak wanted to go through all this trouble to allow them to cross.”
Halman found an old torch and brought it to life. He held it high and waved it back and forth. He watched the opposite bank closely, expecting to see a torch in reply. He was rather shocked when the voice spoke to him.
“You must be Fisher,” said the voice. “Are you ready to do what must be done?”
“I am Halman,” the shadow replied hesitantly. “We are ready to raise the bridge.”
There was a short pause without reply. Halman heard whispering and then laughing coming through the air tunnel. He frowned in confusion.
“Well, shadow of the Torak,” the voice suddenly said, “let us begin.”
Fisher shrugged with indifference as he started operating the winch. Gunta and Halman led their horses towards the building where two metal rings were imbedded in the foundation. When there was enough slack in the ropes, the shadows passed the ends through the metal rings and tied them. Fisher secured the winch, and the three Khadorans walked back to the dock to watch.
Slowly the ropes tightened as the people on the opposite shore pulled their end of the ropes. The Khadorans watched as a footbridge slowly rose out of the river. Water cascaded off the bridge, as the ropes grew taut. Suddenly figures appeared on the bridge. Halman and Gunta tensed, but Fisher merely watched with interest. Moments later the figures became identifiable. The three Khadorans bowed in respect.
“Tayo,” greeted King Avalar. “I appreciate your help in getting across the river.”
“We did not know who to expect,” replied Fisher. “Have you brought many with you?”
“Thousands,” grinned the elven king as he stepped aside to let his men pass by. “I trust that the Motangans are not far ahead of us?”
“Their tail is but an hour away,” replied Fisher, “but their column is long. They have been marching through Sintula since high sun, and that column is unbroken.”
“That is a large number of Motangans,” smiled Princess Alastasia as she stepped alongside her father. “I trust the Khadoran fields can use the extra fertilizer?”
“You have not changed, MistyTrail,” grinned Gunta. “Welcome back to Khadora.”
“I am known as Princess Alastasia to my people,” smiled the elven princess, “but I do not think they would mind your calling me by my old name.”
Gunta looked embarrassed, but Avalar smiled warmly. “As long as her name is held in respect,” he said in a friendly manner, “you may call her what you wish. I was told that the Torak would leave a map for me.”
Fisher nodded and pulled a map out of his black suit. He handed it to the elven king. Halman held the torch high as Avalar gazed at the map. He looked up at the city briefly and then back to the map. Alastasia looked over his shoulder.
“Direct our people to the western edge of the city, daughter,” instructed the king. “Once we are assembled, we shall begin the long march.”
Princess Alastasia nodded and ran to the milling group of elven archers. She led them away to the west and those still crossing the bridge followed. King Avalar watched in satisfaction for a moment and then turned to the three Khadorans.
“You are welcome to join my people for our part in this battle,” King Avalar said. “From what I have heard about the three of you, there are few Khadorans more likely to appreciate the elven ways.”
* * *
“You were supposed to ensure that he got away,” Rejji frowned into the air tunnel.
“He refused to leave, Rejji,” replied Mistake. “He is obviously free to send air tunnel messages out, but I dare not try to contact him. If one of the black-cloaks senses an air tunnel going into the encampment, I will jeopardize Bakhai’s life.”
“Why would he freely stay in the enemy’s camp?” retorted the Astor. “He has already found out that they do not know where Angragar is. That is all we asked him to do.”
“He thinks he can do more,” replied the elven princess. “He wants to guide which way the Motangans go. He has asked me to contact you and let him know what to say to Premer Cardijja.”
“It is too dangerous,” Rejji shook his head. “I want you to tell him to get out of there. If he needs a distraction, I will send the free tribes to attack.”
“I have already told him to leave,” sighed Mistake as she remembered trying to get Rejji to leave the Zaldoni encampment when they first met. “He refuses. He is stubborn like his brother.”
Silence followed and Mistake pictured Rejji pacing back and forth. She heard distant murmurs and realized the Astor was getting advice from others. After a long pause, Rejji’s voice came through the air tunnel.
“Does he know how to contact you once the Motangan army starts marching again?” asked the Astor.
“I have promised him that I would be exactly one league east of the camp each night,” answered Princess Alastasia, “but he cannot contact me when the army is on the move.”
“I am going to send out a Qubari shaman to take your place,” stated Rejji. “For now you are to tell Bakhai to guide the Motangans through the pass between the Bone Mountains and the Giaming Mountains. Warn him that the column will be attacked. I don’t want our people to accidentally kill my brother.”