“I heard that the Katana has declared war on the Sakovans,” shouted a man. “Is this true?”
Mayor Reaker bit his lip as he tried to figure out how to answer the question. His eyes scanned the crowd in search of a safe exit. He suddenly felt very vulnerable.
“I have not received word of that from the Katana,” he finally said. “The troops from Okata supposedly carried word of such a decree, but I am hesitant to believe the words of a group who would slaughter innocents as they have done. Let me go speak with General Manitow about this accusation.”
The mayor jumped off the table and quickly made his way through the crowd before anyone else decided to grab him. He ran back to the Imperial Guard headquarters and into the general’s office.
“They are honoring the dead Sakovans as they would a hero,” panted the mayor. “I think we have serious problems on our hands.”
“I gathered as much when they carried the bodies away,” nodded the general. “I can hardly blame the people. Let them grieve as they wish. It will distill their anger.”
“I do not think so,” argued the mayor. “They are an unruly mob. Your own soldiers can sense it. They are failing to make the distinction between our troops and the Katana’s.”
“In fact,” sighed the general, “there is little distinction. While it was not our men who ambushed the Sakovans, it could well be us that strikes the next time.”
“Then you believe that Captain Gachiral was telling the truth?” asked Mayor Reaker.
“Yes, I do,” nodded the general. “I only demanded confirmation to forestall any attacks. I thought that we could just let the Sakovans return home without any bloodshed. They earned that much from us by bringing the food, but we do not have the option of defying an edict from the Katana. When General Romero arrives here, we will be at war with the Sakovans. There is nothing that we can do about it.”
“Then we are doomed,” sighed the mayor. “Without Sakovan food, many will die.”
“The best approach is to end the war quickly,” retorted General Manitow. “Perhaps the Sakovans will surrender. They certainly appeared peaceful enough when they delivered the food.”
“You don’t really believe that, do you?” questioned the mayor with disbelief.
“No,” sighed the general, “but neither do I believe that the Sakovans are anxious for war. I truly believe that they hoped that the food shipments would buy peace for themselves. They were wrong.”
“What do you plan to do now?” asked the mayor. “Having the Sakovan bodies in the marketplace will keep the suffering of the people on their minds. We must do something to get the citizens back to normal.”
“Leave that to me,” replied the general. “I will have my men remove the bodies during the night. We will load the wagon up and drive it towards the Sakova. When they are far from the city, they will bury the dead and burn the wagon. It may take a few days, but the people will return to their daily tasks.”
“What of FalconEye?” asked Mayor Reaker.
“The mage, Temiker, took him away,” answered General Manitow. “He will try to save the Sakovan, but I fear there is no hope for him. I am surprised that he lasted long enough to arrive here alive.”
“And in a few days General Romero will arrive,” nodded the mayor. “I think you are right. The worst is behind us.”
“At least as far as the turmoil over the dead goes,” countered the general. “The people will still not have food to eat. We must find a solution for that problem before we are finished with this business.”
* * *
Ukaro carried FalconEye as Temiker led the way to the schoolhouse. The Omungan mage swept through the doorway and brushed everything off the teacher’s desk. The teacher backed away as he saw Ukaro enter with the body. The students all rose from their desks to see what was happening. As Ukaro was placing FalconEye’s body face down on the desk, the wind swept his hood away. The students gasped with shock at the sight of the Chula’s face.
“Quiet,” admonished Temiker. “Ukaro is a Chula shaman. You would be well advised to observe his powers in silence. No word of this will be spoken outside these walls. Close the door.”
One of the students leaped towards the door and slammed it shut. Ukaro drew a knife and cut the clothes off the Sakovan’s body. Temiker moved close and examined the shafts sticking out of FalconEye’s back.
“They are deep,” frowned Temiker. “There is not much life left in him.”
“There is enough to try,” replied Ukaro. “If we work together, we may be able to save him.”
“Then we shall work together,” agreed Temiker. “I can work the arrows free of the flesh.”
“I will start healing from the inside,” nodded the Chula shaman. “We must work in unison to succeed.”
“I will queue off your efforts,” volunteered Temiker.
Chapter 11
A Crack and a Cry
The magic student raced through the streets of Alamar. He dashed into the common classroom and along the corridor to the dining room. Temiker and Ukaro were sitting at the table, each on a different side of FalconEye. Temiker was feeding soup to the Sakovan.
“The soldiers are taking the Sakovan bodies,” the student panted.
“What are they doing with them?” asked Temiker.
“Piling them into the wagon,” answered the student. “I heard the soldiers talking. They plan to take the bodies out of town and bury them and burn the wagon.”
“No,” FalconEye said weakly as he pushed Temiker’s hand away. “They must return to the Sakova.”
“Eat your soup,” interjected Ukaro. “I will see that your people are returned safely.”
“That is not wise,” offered Temiker. “The Sakovans do not suffer trespassers. I will go. They know me.”
“Stay and teach your students,” Ukaro shook his head. “Alamar is not the place for me to be. The Sakovans will not attack me, and I will not attack them. Trust me.”
After a long pause Temiker nodded his agreement. Ukaro rose and pulled his hood over his face.
“Do you want help?” asked the student. “I will go with you.”
Ukaro smiled at the student and gently placed his hand on the lad’s shoulder.
“You are a brave one,” he said calmly. “Stay here and help FalconEye. There will be a test of your bravery before things are done in Alamar. A wagon I can handle on my own.”
“But there are soldiers escorting it,” frowned the student. “They will not let you take the wagon. You will have to battle them.”
“There will be no battle,” smiled the Chula shaman. “These flatlanders have not yet proven to be my enemy. When they declare that they are my enemy, then the battle will begin, but not before. This is their land that I am on, not mine.”
Ukaro walked out through the kitchen and the back door of the schoolhouse. He transformed himself into a kitten and ran towards the main street through the city. It waited patiently for the wagon to appear. As the wagon rolled by, the kitten raced into the street and leaped aboard. It stood next to the bodies for a while to see if anyone had noticed its entry and then curled up for a nap.
Several hours later the wagon jolted to a halt. The kitten immediately rose and stretched. It hid in a dark corner as the soldiers reached into the wagon and removed the shovels. Calmly it waited until it heard their voices and the sound of digging. The cat moved to the rear and gazed out. Five soldiers were digging individual graves while the other seven were relaxing. Some of them were stretched out on the ground with their eyes closed.
The kitten leaped out of the wagon and landed soundlessly. It looked around until it found where the Imperial Guard horses were tied and then it padded softly in that direction. Before it reached the tree that the horses were tied to, the kitten hid and transformed into Ukaro. The Chula shaman walked softly to the horses and untied their reins. The horses were skittish as if they sensed something abnormal in the Chula. Ukaro’s split lips smiled and then opened wide as he let out a low growl. The horses panicked and fled while Ukaro stepped into the darkness behind a nearby tree.