“I don’t see how this helps with General Romero,” frowned the general. “It may help in the long term with our food supply, but there is no long term if his army arrives here.”
“Think in terms of strategic deceit, General,” grinned the mayor. “General Romero is going to see league upon league of burnt fields as he approaches the city. His army will have absolutely nothing to eat. Not even diseased grain.”
“That is not deceit,” Lyra pointed out.
“No,” agreed the mayor, “but the mounds and mounds of freshly turned dirt will deceive him. What he will see as he travels towards us is burning fields followed by burnt fields with what appears to be massive graves.”
“Disease of the people?” gasped the general as he began to see the picture that the mayor was painting. “He will think our own region is diseased and dying. Only a fool would continue marching his army into such an area.”
“Regardless of his orders,” the mayor nodded enthusiastically. “He may be willing to sacrifice some men by sending them to see what is up ahead, but he will not bring his army to Alamar.”
“We can either turn his scouts back, or hold them for questioning,” nodded the general. “This can work, and we will not have to speak a single untruth. We can let General Romero evaluate what he sees for himself.”
“The Sakovans can help persuade him to reverse directions,” offered Lyra. “If the armies coming into the Sakova from the west run into problems, the Katana will need reinforcements. General Romero’s army will be idle.”
“He will be recalled,” nodded the general. “How does that help your people? You will still end up with the same number of troops invading the Sakova.”
“One problem at a time,” answered Lyra. “Perhaps if I can keep the Omungan armies moving around the country long enough, someone in Okata will find out that the Katana is not really Larst. There is little hope for peace until that happens.”
“I hope you can find a way to expose him,” sympathized the mayor. “I am beginning to appreciate our Sakovan neighbors. I would not want to see you wiped out.”
“Oh, we will not be wiped out,” promised Lyra. “If it comes to war, our armies will prevail. I am trying to promote peace because it is in everyone’s best interests.”
“Prevail?” echoed the general. “Surely, you are joking?”
“Not in the least,” replied Lyra. “Every Sakovan learns to fight at a young age. Every man, woman, and child will fight for their lives. They will never surrender. The Sakovan people have trained for this day for a thousand years, General. We have fervently tried to avoid it, but we are more than capable of defending our homeland. Thousands upon thousands of young Omungan soldiers will die needlessly. Work with me to avoid such a catastrophe for your people.”
“I know of one thousand who will not be invading the Sakova,” declared the general. “Do not ask me to go further than that.”
“All I can ask of any leader is to think about what is best for the people in his care,” Lyra replied.
Chapter 14
Eltor
The large chamber was silent as were the tunnels that ran out of it. The large wheel had remained motionless for hours, and the rope holding the buckets was unmoving. Twenty paces above the floor of the chamber, Mistake’s eyes were closed as she rested her head on her arms. MistyTrail grew impatient waiting for the elf to return. Her mind wandered aimlessly. She thought about the sinking of the boat, and the strange guardhouse on the beach, but mostly she thought about her friends still in the Sakova. She missed them and wondered why she was where she was.
A soft and distant padding dragged MistyTrail away from her thoughts. She peered into the large chamber and tried to determine where the sound was coming from. The sound echoed lightly off the rock walls, masking the true directions, but MistyTrail knew they were coming closer. She gently touched Mistake to wake her up. Mistake’s eyes popped open, and she raised her head. She heard the soft sounds immediately. Her eyes focused on the tunnel that Eltor had disappeared into hours ago. She watched as Eltor came into view.
Eltor paused where the tunnel entered the large chamber. He looked around nervously before entering the room. Mistake immediately wrapped the rope around herself and braced her feet on the rock as she had for her sister. MistyTrail grinned broadly at Mistake as she took the coil of rope and threw it over the edge. The rope fell silently with only a light thud as the end hit the floor. Eltor immediately focused on the rope. His eyes followed the rope upward until he saw MistyTrail looking down at him. He walked cautiously to the rope and gazed upward.
“Who are you?” he asked.
His voice was barely audible and MistyTrail frowned. She had expected him to climb the rope. She wove an air tunnel towards Eltor and spoke softly into it.
“Climb up,” she urged. “You don’t want to be caught.”
“Who are you?” Eltor repeated stubbornly.
“I am MistyTrail,” she answered. “I am here to rescue you.”
“I don’t think so,” Eltor shook his head. “I think you are trying to lure me into escaping. I will stay here.”
“Why would we lie to you?” MistyTrail asked with exasperation.
“To make an example of me,” retorted Eltor. “I may be new to the mines, but I was not born yesterday. I have already heard the tales of people trying to escape. I will not be the next one tortured. I have learned my lesson.”
“What are you talking about?” scowled MistyTrail. “We have waited all day for you.”
“We?” asked Eltor. “So there are others in this plot?”
“My sister, Mistake, is with me,” answered MistyTrail. “She is holding the rope. Why do you think we would lure you up here?”
“To get me whipped,” replied Eltor.
“Would you not get whipped for standing down there talking to us?” asked MistyTrail.
Eltor’s face clouded, and MistyTrail grinned.
“So to get you whipped all we would have to do is scream to get someone’s attention?” surmised the Sakovan. “Then it would be foolish of us to risk our lives trying to lure you up here. Either you climb the rope, or we are leaving. The choice is yours, but make it quickly.”
Eltor stood unmoving for a moment. He was still skeptical, but he was more curious to find who the women were. He grabbed the rope and climbed up to the ledge. MistyTrail immediately pulled the rope up. Eltor stared at MistyTrail’s face, and the pale of confusion on his own became more noticeable.
“You are an elf,” Eltor said with surprise. “Why did you not say so?”
“Am I?” replied MistyTrail as her hand reached out and touched Eltor’s ear. “I thought the elves died off ages ago?”
“How could you believe such a thing?” asked Eltor as Mistake unwrapped the rope from around her body. “Are you not from Elvangar?”
“Elvangar?” echoed Mistake. “Where is that?”
“Ah,” sighed Eltor. “You were born on this island. Still, your parents should have taught of our homeland. How have you remained ignorant for so long? Have you grown up in this cave?”
“Island?” asked MistyTrail. “This is an island?”
“Now you are making fun of me,” scowled Eltor. “Give me the rope that I might go back to my bed and get some sleep. I have no need of games when much work will be required of me in the morning.”
“We are not playing games,” responded Mistake. “I am from Fakara, and MistyTrail is from Omunga. Our ship was sunk in a storm. We swam to shore, but we do not know where we are. Is this really an island?”
“The island of Motanga,” replied Eltor as he studied Mistake’s face for a hint of humor or deceit. “What kind of names are those? They are not elven names.”
“Our names were given to us by those who brought us up,” answered MistyTrail. “We did not know that we were related to elves. In fact, I did not believe in elves until I saw you.”