“Are you so easily convinced that the elves can corrupt the air tunnel spell?” inquired the emperor.
“No,” Pakar shook his head, “I am not convinced at all. In fact, I see no possibility of that happening. There would have to be an elf at one of the ends of the air tunnel. If it were broken anywhere else, both mages would feel the disruption. I believe this to be a story made up to limit our communications. The enemy wants to blind us to what they are doing.”
“Well reasoned,” smiled the emperor. “Who were these traitors who spread the false tales of the corrupted air tunnels?”
Pakar bit his lip and hesitated just a moment too long. The emperor’s demeanor instantly changed to darkness as he detected the mage’s hesitation. As Vand’s mouth opened to scold the mage, Pakar spit out the answer.
“It was Xavo and Lady Mystic,” Pakar said hurriedly. “They claimed to be coming here with word about the corruption. That is why the mages in Meliban felt at ease with not answering our calls.”
“Xavo?” echoed the emperor with disbelief. “Did he not accompany us here? Who gave him leave to return to Vandamar?”
“He did not come with us,” frowned Pakar. “I assumed that his orders were to stay there.”
Vand seethed at Xavo’s betrayal. The mage had been afforded the highest position for his loyalty, and his duplicity stung the emperor. Vand’s mind shifted to his daughter, and suddenly he nodded to himself. His rebel daughter had managed to seduce another mage to help her in her attempt to seek revenge. Vand vowed that she would not live to see her goal.
“Contact Meliban,” commanded the emperor. “I want both Xavo and Lady Mystic brought to me here in Vandegar. I do not care what condition they arrive in, as long as they still breath. Their deaths will be an event to be watched by all.”
“They are no longer in Meliban,” Pakar said softly. “They left days ago. They should have been here by now.”
Vand’s gaze narrowed as he tried to imagine what the duo would be doing in Fakara. For several long moments, a silence hung over the chamber. Eventually Vand locked eyes with Pakar. He spoke calmly and softly, but no one could mistake the tinge of hatred in his voice.
“Send word to everyone under my command,” instructed the emperor. “Xavo and Lady Mystic are traitors. They are to be apprehended in any conceivable way, as long as they arrive in Vandegar alive. The reward for their capture will be unlimited bounty and status.”
“It shall be as you command,” bowed the black-cloak. “Should we send men to Khadora as well?”
“No,” the emperor responded tersely. “I will deal with Shamal in my own way. Go and spread the word.”
With a dismissive wave, the emperor sent his mages from the throne room. Premer Tzargo bowed and backed out of the room, leaving Emperor Vand alone. Vand sat silently for a few moments and then rose from his throne. He appeared to be walking casually out of the throne room, but his mind was filled with rage. He cursed Xavo and his daughter for their interference. He mentally berated Shamal for failure to keep him informed. He spat on the memory of Doralin who had failed him in the Sakova.
When the emperor reached the roof of the temple, he was in a particularly foul mood, which was quite appropriate for the company he was about to commune with. Located on the roof were six hideous demons, visages of harshly chiseled black stones. Their metallic sounding claws tapped the roof of the temple as they felt the emperor approaching. They turned as one to gaze at the doorway leading into the temple from the roof. Vand walked through the doorway, his face a mask of hatred. The demons’ angular lips parted in what some would mistake for a smile.
Vand ignored the demons at first, which he knew incensed them. He walked to the edge of the roof and gazed out over the plain stretching westward. The Fortung Mountains were visible far in the distance, and beyond them was Khadora. The six demons moved slowly as if with no direction, but they converged on the emperor. They surrounded him in a semicircle and waited to hear his words.
“Premer Shamal has proven to be a disappointment,” the emperor said so softly that it sounded like he was whispering to someone, but there was no one there except the demons. “He needs to be told the errors of his ways. Do not harm him, but bring him to me.”
The emperor turned and touched one of the demons. He looked the creature in the eyes and said, “Kill anyone who gets in your way, but bring me Shamal. Do it now.”
The chosen demon grinned at the others as they backed away. The creature stepped to the very edge of the roof and leaned forward, allowing his body to fall. Vand watched with curiosity as the demon plummeted towards the ground. Suddenly, long black wings unfolded and swung out from the demon’s body, and the fall turned into a glide. With a single flap of those powerful wings, the demon rose upward and soared towards the west. Vand stood silently and watched the black specter sail through the sky until the demon was merely a speck lost in the haze of the distant mountains.
Chapter 32
Terror in the Jungle
Emperor Marak rode a horse south along the roadway of death. His expression was a mixture of victory tinged with a deep sadness as he viewed the carnage left from the battle. He passed several work crews and their wagons and paused momentarily to watch the men loading the wagons with bodies and body parts. He shook his head with disgust at the wasted human lives and continued southward. A few minutes later he came to the area of the road where he had attacked Premer Shamal and his officers. Again he paused as his eyes scanned the grounds. Blood soaked the road and little was recognizable, but he saw the head of the Motangan premer staring blankly up at the sky. The man’s mouth was open wide with what must have been his dying shout. Marak closed his eyes and offered up a prayer to Kaltara. He gave thanks for the victory over the Motangans, but he also prayed for an end to the continuing slaughter brought upon the world by Emperor Vand.
“I told you he would be alive,” Fisher shouted joyfully.
Marak’s eyes flew open, and he saw the Khadoran spy flanked by Gunta and Halman. The three faces grinned back at him as the Khadorans raced forward to stand before the Torak.
“You did it,” smiled Gunta. “You defeated the Motangans.”
“Not that we ever had any doubts,” Halman added quickly.
“We have had a great victory,” Marak replied softly, “but the war is not over. Fighting still awaits us in Fakara.”
“The Khadorans are going into Fakara?” asked Gunta.
“I cannot ask the Khadorans to go to war in Fakara,” declared the Torak. “They have already suffered much, and they have a country to rebuild, but we are going.”
“You have but to ask them,” frowned Fisher. “They will deny you nothing.”
“Their loyalty warms my heart,” Marak smiled tautly, “but it is their faith in Kaltara that I seek, not their desire to make me a deity. I will leave their actions up to their own hearts.”
“As you should,” King Avalar smiled as he walked towards the group with his daughter by his side. “You may urge a people to war, but it is worthless unless victory is in their own hearts.”
“Which is why the elves will be going to Fakara with you,” grinned Princess Alastasia.
“That pleases me greatly,” smiled the Torak. “The elves are always welcome wherever I may be. From the air I witnessed the results to those who would stand before the elves in battle. You make a formidable foe.”
“From what I have seen of this roadway of death on my way here,” replied King Avalar, “the Motangans had many formidable foes in this battle. The Chula are already forming ranks to head to Fakara, as are my people. You have no need to even ask them. We who travel by foot need the head start. The Chula and the elves will meet you on the other side of the Fortung Mountains.”