Marak slid out of the room and closed the door. He moved silently to the stairs and slowly started climbing them. He was half way up the stairs when movement on the upper floor caught his eye. He froze.
Marak saw the swirl of a black cloak as the mage closed a door and locked it. The Torak slowly and silently took several Sakovan stars from his pouch as he waited for the mage to move towards the top of the stairs where he would get a decent shot at him.
“Intruder!” shouted a voice behind Emperor Marak.
The Torak whirled around and saw a soldier drawing his sword. The other five soldiers were quickly leaving their slumber behind and scrambling to their feet. Sounds of cursing and running were audible over his head, and Marak knew that it was time to leave the building as quickly as he could.
The Torak raced down the stairs, the first Sakovan star already sailing through the air. It impacted the shouting soldier just above the nose, the man teetering slightly before falling to the floor. Two other soldiers were already to their feet and drawing their swords. Marak sent two Sakovan stars flying towards the men. He struck one Motangan in the forehead, but the other man had moved too quickly.
Marak drew his sword as he raced for the front door of the building. He wanted to look over his shoulder to see who was coming after him, but he could not afford to with four soldiers before him. He charged directly at the man who already was armed. The Motangan tensed and took a defensive stance, his sword held before him. Marak jogged to one side at the last minute, swinging his long two-handed sword at the Motangan. The enemy’s sword clattered to the floor, with the man’s hand still gripping the hilt.
The Torak charged into another man who was fumbling for his sword. He knocked the soldier over and raced out the front door. Once out of the building, the Torak immediately moved to the right so that he was not visible to the mage. He heard someone shouting instructions to the soldiers and figured that it was either an officer or the mage. He wasn’t sure which, but the orders made up Marak’s mind as to how to proceed with the battle. They wanted him alive.
There was a large plaza across from the building with a well in the center of it, and Marak raced towards it. There were soldiers pouring out of buildings everywhere he looked. Marak stopped in the center of the plaza and leaned his sword against the well. He stood with his naked hands in plain view as soldiers poured out of the headquarters building.
None of the soldiers were in a hurry to attack Marak. In fact, none of them entered the plaza. They surrounded the plaza and drew their swords, waiting for the command to attack. The Torak turned slowly as he memorized the position of the groups surrounding him. Marak heard loud arguing coming from the headquarters building, and he tried to hear what was being said. A moment later, two men emerged from the building. One was an officer, and the other was the black-cloaked mage.
“Because we must know how he got here,” yelled the mage. “Have you no sense at all? Duran is supposed to be inaccessible from the land. Do you see any boats in the harbor?”
“My men are quite capable of attacking and defeating him without killing him,” argued the officer. “All you had to do was ask properly. You do not give orders to my men. I do.”
Suddenly, the air rippled in front of the mage. One moment the mage was opening his mouth to yell at the officer, the next moment his head exploded in a fine red mist. The Torak was surprised by Lyra’s spell, but he did not need to wait for an invitation to join the battle. He immediately tossed a ball of light at the soldiers crowded at the front of the building. The ball of light instantly flattened, and blades of light grew out of it as it sailed into the group of men. The blades sliced into the men, body parts flying through the air.
Marak swiveled to strike another group to his right, but they were already dead, their charred bodies sending spirals of smoke into the air. The whole plaza had erupted with confusion. The Torak turned rapidly to search for the other large group that had been behind him, but the soldiers were running away from the plaza. As Marak continued his turn, he saw the reason for the soldiers running away.
Myka soared overhead, a Motangan soldier screaming in each claw. Fire spit out of her snout in a long searing streak. On the dragon’s back, Lyra was tossing fireballs with one hand and force bolts with the other.
“Grab your sword, Torak,” taunted Myka as she dropped the bodies of the Motangan soldiers. “You will miss all the fun if you just stand there. Flush them out for me.”
The dragon flew after a large group of Motangans that were heading for the sea. Marak grabbed his sword as he saw two Motangans duck into the blacksmith shop. He ran after them.
For the next two hours, the Torak methodically checked every building in the city while Lyra and Myka hovered overhead. A few of the soldiers put up a fight when discovered in their hiding places, but most of them tried to run away. Lyra and Myka caught them all.
When the last building was checked, Marak returned to the plaza and sat with his back to the well. He was cleaning his sword when Myka landed, and Lyra slid off of the dragon’s back.
“What an amazing creature,” Lyra said as she sat down next to Marak. “Are you alright?”
“I am fine,” nodded Marak. “The two of you were great today. I don’t mind telling you that I had my doubts about coming here while I was in the plaza surrounded by the Motangans. There was certainly more than a corte of troops here.”
“This was just practice,” snorted Myka. “Sort of like playing hide the Motangan. In a real battle you don’t get to eliminate the enemy in small groups.”
“I will keep that in mind,” Marak replied dryly.
“I felt indestructible up there today,” grinned Lyra. “What a way to fight the enemy!”
“There was only one mage against you today,” warned Marak, “and no archers. Do not ever feel indestructible. There is no such thing.”
“The blue cylinder spell protects me completely,” countered Lyra. “I know of nothing that can penetrate it.”
“Who knows what another mage can do?” shrugged the Torak. “Besides, you cannot hold that spell forever.”
“What is bothering you, Marak,” frowned Lyra. “Is it that Myka and I killed more Motangans than you?”
“No,” sighed the Torak. “You two did great. I wouldn’t have survived today without both of you. I think that is what is bothering me. Halman and Gunta have become quite angry with me since I have been riding Myka. They feel that I am exposing myself too much without them around to protect me.”
“And they think I am incapable of protecting you?” snorted Myka. “Ridiculous.”
“That’s not the point, Myka,” replied Lyra. “I know what Marak is talking about. My people are the same. They constantly offer up their own lives to protect me. That is quite a sacrifice for anyone to make, and it hurts when they find out that it is not needed.”
“But those two always protect the Torak,” frowned Myka. “They are even called his shadows, but must they be with him every minute?”
“They worry for his safety as a mother worries for her child,” explained Lyra. “Can you imagine that, Myka?”
Myka did not reply, and Lyra turned to look at the dragon. Tears were clearly visible in Myka’s eyes, and Lyra bit her lower lip with anguish. She had not imagined that Myka might have been a mother, but it was clear from her reaction that she had been.