“Why are you replacing me?” frowned Mistake. “I was responsible for him getting caught.”
“You did what was asked of you,” replied Rejji. “I expected both of you to return immediately, but that is not how things panned out. Now you need to return here to lead your people. Tell Bakhai of the change when he contacts you.”
* * *
The dragon flew low over the forest east of the Three Sisters. At the Torak’s command, she banked sharply and soared up the face of the middle mountain. When she reached the peak, she hovered momentarily as the people scattered to make room for her to land.
“They always remind me of dinner when they scurry about like that,” quipped Myka.
The Torak laughed and shook his head as he slid off of Myka’s back. He strode briskly towards the group of people and embraced his father.
“How is it going?” the Torak asked.
“The Motangans are not stopping for the night,” replied Ukaro. “It is like watching an unending river of red from up here. Come, I will show you.”
The Chula shaman led the Torak to an outcropping where several Chula shaman sat. Marak sat among them and peered into the river valley. Far below was a line of red uniforms marching north. He tried to follow the line of red back to the city of Sintula, but the moonlight was inadequate for that. Still, the armies of the Motangans were impressive.
“Your clansmen across the river are also ready,” remarked Ukaro. “We saw the black and silver arrive earlier today.”
“And the elves to the south?” asked the Torak.
“Of them we have had no word,” shrugged Ukaro, “but we are not likely to either. I suspect that the elves know how to remain unseen. I do not waste my time looking for them.”
“Are your people ready to play your part?” asked Marak.
“We are your people, Torak,” grinned Axor who was sitting nearby, “and yes we are ready. We assembled three days ago. Our time has been spent in prayer.”
“Then it has been time well spent,” smiled the Torak. “When do you estimate that the vanguard will reach the earthen berm?”
“High sun tomorrow,” answered Ukaro.
“If they don’t stop to rest,” interjected Axor.
“They will be quite tired if they don’t stop,” mused Marak. “Can Shamal really be in such a hurry?”
“Perhaps he thinks that the Khadorans have fled to Chantise,” shrugged Ukaro. “If you had planned a reception for him in Chantise as you did in Sintula, his men would have ample time to rest there while trying to figure out a way to cross the river.”
“Then Shamal has made a grievous error,” replied the Torak. “His tired men will be attacked from four sides simultaneously. Let us pray that his error is fatal.”
* * *
Xavo reined in his horse and turned to look out over the plain to the west. He stared at the distant dust cloud with curiosity.
“What is it?” asked Lady Mystic as she halted alongside him.
“It is a sizeable movement,” answered Xavo. “If it is a caravan, it is a large one.”
“Could it be soldiers from Meliban coming after us?” asked Lady Mystic. “They may have communicated with Vandegar and found out that we are traitors.”
“I do not think of us as traitors,” replied Xavo. “Only a fool would willingly follow Vand. Anyone who values life is obligated to work against him.”
“You forget that I am his daughter,” frowned Lady Mystic. “For me to go against my father is an act of treason.”
Xavo sighed heavily and reached for his lover’s hand. “Do not punish yourself for your decisions,” he said gently. “You had no control over who your parents were. It is far more important that you chose the right path than blindly succumbing to a madman’s commands.”
Lady Mystic smiled tautly and squeezed Xavo’s hand. Her facial expression showed her doubt in Xavo’s words, but her eyes twinkled with love. Xavo smiled broadly and returned the squeeze.
“In any event,” he continued, “whatever is coming this way is not on foot. The dust cloud is moving too fast for that. It is definitely horses, and that leaves only two possibilities to my mind. Either it is riders of the Fakaran tribes, or it is a caravan. Either one requires some action on our part.”
“You would not attack the Fakarans?” questioned Lady Mystic. “Would you?”
“Of course not,” replied Xavo, “but I would hide from them. They are just as likely to kill us as the Motangans.”
“Well,” retorted Lady Mystic, “they will die if they attack us. Allies or not, I do not plan to lose you ever again.”
“I think we could easily hide from the tribes,” smiled Xavo as he thought about the Valley of the Ram. “I do have experience dealing with them. They are rather superstitious. Let’s ride on and try to find a better vantage point so we can know for sure who it is.”
Xavo led the way up the gentle slope of the foothills. He occasionally turned to gaze upon the column creating the dust cloud, but he could not identify them. As the sun began to sink towards the western horizon, they came to a large, flat clearing. Xavo halted and studied the area. A large, circular fire ring sat in the center of the clearing, and ruts created by wagon wheels marred the soil. While Lady Mystic waited, Xavo left the clearing on a narrow trail that angled back along a ridge. The trail ended abruptly at the edge of a cliff. Xavo stared down at the trail they had traveled earlier. He smiled broadly as his eyes saw the caravan heading up the foothill. He turned and rode back to the clearing.
“It is indeed a Motangan caravan,” announced Xavo, “a large one in fact. Must be at least twenty wagons.”
“And soldiers?” asked Lady Mystic.
“I could not see well enough to count them,” answered Xavo, “but at least a hundred. I suspect that they will stop for the night in this clearing. It appears to have been used for such a purpose before.”
“How much time do we have?” asked Lady Mystic.
“A couple of hours,” smiled Xavo. “What are you thinking?”
“We have time to plan a few surprises for the Motangans,” grinned Lady Mystic.
“Indeed we do,” chuckled Xavo. “Dismount. I will lead the horses away from here so that they do not give us away.”
Lady Mystic slid off the horse and walked around the clearing, imagining where the wagons would rest for the night and where the solders would sleep. When Xavo returned, she was sitting on a log staring at the fire ring.
“What are you dreaming up?” Xavo asked.
“Nothing fancy,” smiled Lady Mystic. “Oh, I did let my imagination run wild for a time, but I think simplicity will accomplish the goal easier. We will each take a different side of the campground. I will draw their attention to the fire ring and then we strike them down. If I am correct in my assumptions, we can spare the horses. They should be well enough away from the soldiers.”
“I will take the western side of the camp,” nodded Xavo. “I want to watch them approach.”
Lady Mystic nodded and Xavo disappeared along the trail leading to the ridge. He found a safe hiding spot and watched the trail leading up the slope. A little over an hour later, the caravan came into view. He counted two dozen wagons. After the caravan passed below his hiding spot, Xavo remained hidden but kept his ears cocked to hear the sounds of the camp being set up. Two hours later he heard the call whispered in his ear.
“It is show time,” Lady Mystic said softly. “Work your way towards the camp.”
Xavo moved silently along the trail and waited behind a tree where he had a good view of the Motangan camp. The fire ring was indeed the center of the camp, but soldiers were also fairly far away from it. He wondered what his lover had in mind.
Unexpectedly, a large cloud of smoke rose from the campfire. Several soldiers shouted in alarm. When everyone’s attention was focused on the fire ring, an image suddenly appeared. It was an image of Emperor Vand and his daughter, flames leaping up from their feet.
“Emperor Vand commands your attention,” the image of Lady Mystic announced loudly. “Gather around and hear his words.”