Fisher spun and saw a beautiful young woman leaning out of a window of the mansion.
“It is amazing,” nodded Fisher. “It is heartwarming to know that Khadora has such a lord. When will the Sakovans arrive?”
“Not sure,” replied the woman. “Lord Chenowith wants the huts completed as soon as possible in case the war breaks out in Khadora. You guys are great for the way you are working. I am surprised to find you still awake after working all day. How do you do it?”
“I didn’t work on it today,” shrugged Fisher. “I am just in from the city.”
“Oh,” smiled the woman. “Has my father come home?”
Fisher frowned as he tried to figure out what the woman was talking about. He wanted to ask who her father was, but he didn’t dare. Her father could be an important officer, or even the seneschal, which any Walkan soldier would recognize.
“I came alone,” he finally answered.
“Oh,” frowned the woman. “Since he was elected to the Lords’ Council, I hardly get to see him any more.”
Fisher swallowed hard as he realized that he was talking to Lord Chenowith’s daughter, but he also realized that Lord Chenowith was not in residence.
“Well, I should be moving along,” Fisher said anxiously.
“Do you want some tea?” asked the woman. “I don’t seem to be able to sleep tonight, and someone to talk to would be nice.”
Fisher could not refuse. To do so would be an insult to the lord’s family. He nodded his head, and the woman smiled.
“I will unlock the back door for you,” offered the woman just before she disappeared.
Fisher debated making a run for it, but he really wanted the information from Bagora’s journal, and he would never get another chance. He walked to the rear door of the mansion and entered. Thankfully, the woman had only lit one torch in the kitchen, so the lighting remained dim enough for her to confuse the uniform with a Walkan one. The woman set two cups of tea on the table and settled into one of the chairs. Fisher slid into the other chair and smiled.
“You are a quiet one, aren’t you?” smiled the woman. “What is your name?”
“Some of my friends call me Scarab,” shrugged Fisher.
“And I thought Elly was a bad name,” chuckled the woman. “Where did you get a name like Scarab?”
“Elly is a fine name,” smiled Fisher. “How could you think it is bad?”
“Do you really think so?” she asked.
“I do,” smiled Fisher as he rose. “I have to attend to something right away. I guess this tea filled me up. Will you wait here for me?”
“Sure,” smiled Elly. “I will make some fresh tea. This pot is a little stale.”
“That’s great,” smiled Fisher as he slipped out of the kitchen.
He walked to the back door of the mansion and opened and closed it without passing through it. He quietly moved along the corridor until he came to Bagora’s room. The door was locked. He swiftly removed a strip of metal from his belt and worked the lock. The click sounded tremendously loud in the silence of the mansion. He opened the door and slipped into the room and closed the door.
He dared not light a torch in the room, but the moon was just past full, and moonlight flooded in the window. He walked to a corner of the room where several metal boxes were placed in a row. He saw one that had been broken open and immediately moved towards it. He opened the box and peered at the papers inside. There were more than he had anticipated. Knowing that he did not have time to find the proper papers, Fisher grabbed them all and put them in his pack. He closed the box and moved swiftly to the door. He slowly opened the door and eased into the corridor. Fisher moved to the back door of the mansion and opened and closed it again. He smiled as he walked into the kitchen and sat down.
“I thought you got lost,” commented Elly. “Here is a fresh cup of tea.”
“Thank you,” smiled Fisher. “I probably should be getting to bed soon. Won’t the tea keep you awake?”
“Not really,” shrugged Elly, “but I should go to bed soon, too. Father probably wouldn’t like to see me up this late. He worries that I will get sick. You know how fathers can be sometimes, even if you are old enough to marry.”
“I sure do,” Fisher lied. “I enjoyed talking to you. Maybe I will sneak back some night and do it again.”
“That would be fun,” grinned Elly. “Come earlier next time.”
Elly let Fisher out the back door and then locked it. He was just about to round the corner of the mansion when he heard the horses riding in from the road beyond the estate.
“It sounds like father has arrived,” Elly smiled as she stuck her head out of the window. “Good night, Scarab.”
“Good night, Elly,” smiled Fisher.
The spy moved around the corner of the mansion and hugged the building, hoping that none of the soldiers escorting the lord would come around to the rear of the mansion. He remained frozen for what seemed an eternity, but the estate finally returned to silence. Fisher walked calmly in the open until he reached the fields. Once he was concealed, he ran as if his life depended upon his speed.
Chapter 7
Supply Depot
The dragon circled over the half-destroyed city, the early morning light casting long shadows from the few buildings left standing. Most of the wooden structures in Duran had been burned to the ground during the earlier Motangan invasion, but the stone structures were still intact. It was in the stone structures that the soldiers slept and the perishables were kept. The rest of Duran consisted of piles of burnt debris and crates of supplies waiting to be picked up and ferried to the invading armies. The Torak gazed down on the enemy supply depot and searched for signs of sentries. He saw none.
“They are not early risers,” Emperor Marak declared. “We need to find the mage first. I do not want word of the attack to reach the Island of Darkness.”
“Can Myka get us down there without being seen or heard?” asked the Star of Sakova.
“Just give the word,” replied the dragon. “I can glide along the base of the Wall of Mermidion. Any sentries awake would be more likely to keep a close eye on the sea.”
“Let’s do it,” urged the Torak. “I prefer to be on the ground before they wake up.”
“Hmmph,” snorted the dragon. “Some day you will eat those words. There is no better place to command a battle than on the back of a winged warrior.”
“I will stay with Myka,” volunteered Lyra. “I have no reason for close contact with the enemy. You flush them out into the open, Marak, and I will deal with them.”
“The Star of Sakova understands,” grinned the dragon as she quietly touched down at the base of the cliffs. “Enter the rat holes and chase out the prey, Torak. We will be waiting above you.”
Marak slid off the dragon without comment. He did not bother to turn around and watch the dragon leap into the air. He pulled the Sword of Torak from its sheath and headed for the first stone building.
The first stone building was a mill, and Marak approached with his long, black, sinuous blade held before him. He peered through the window and saw two Motangan soldiers sleeping. Silently he made his way to the door and crept into the small building. His eyes swept the dark corners of the room before moving to stand over the two Motangans. His first swing decapitated one of the sleeping soldiers. The other soldier woke as blood splattered onto his body, but Marak drove the Sword of Torak through the man’s heart before the Motangan realized what was happening. The Torak moved on.
Stone buildings dotted the old city. Some of them used to house smiths and trade shops, but one was much larger than the rest. It was the headquarters of the Imperial Guards. The building was the most likely place to find the mage, but it was also where Marak was apt to find a large concentration of enemy soldiers. He moved cautiously to a window and peered inside.
The room had piles of cloth covering crates, which were stacked half way to the ceiling. Marak could not see any Motangans in the room. Sheathing his sword, the Torak climbed in the window and quietly lowered himself to the floor. He padded softly to the door and eased it open. Beyond the door was a large entry foyer with several soldiers sleeping on the floor. A number of other doors lined the opposite wall, and there was a staircase leading to the next level. Marak frowned at the possibility of finding the mage without waking any of the soldiers, but he had to try. Maintaining the secrecy surrounding Duran was vital to his plans.