Shouts rang out from below the shamans. Ukaro signaled with his hands, and the Chula retreated up the steps to the uppermost level of the inn. Black cloaks were clearly visible down the stairwell as the Motangan mages reacted to the alarm.
The mages raced to the ground level and threw open the front door. Twirling blades of light immediately sliced through their bodies and panic erupted inside the inn. Some mages tried the windows and the back door, only to meet with a similar fate as blades of light sliced through their bodies.
“Stay away from the windows,” shouted a Motangan mage. “We are surrounded, but I have a plan. Gather around me.”
Ukaro nodded to his fellow shamans and crept down the stairs. They reached the second level and continued downward. Half way down the last flight of steps, Ukaro halted as he saw a large mass of black cloaks milling around the man who must have taken command. Ukaro had no need to signal to his fellow Chula. He stepped down one more step and stooped to give the others a clearer view.
As Ukaro unleashed his blades of light, several others whisked past his shoulders. The magical blades sliced into the clump of black cloaks and body parts flew through the air. A fine red mist hung in the air for several seconds before drifting to the bloody floor. Ukaro immediately rose and raced down the stairs. He avoided the area of carnage and proceeded to check the other rooms of the first floor for any stray mages. Minutes later, the other three shamans joined him.
“The second floor is cleared,” reported one of the Chula.
“As is this one,” nodded Ukaro. “Our business is done here. We need to get out on the streets to help our warriors. Give the signal that we are coming out.”
For the next three hours, the battle raged in Alamar. Some of the Motangans dashed into the street to battle with the Chula warriors, while others sought sanctuary in the partially destroyed buildings. Light blades flashed all over the city, and cats were seen dashing into buildings that had become Motangan refuges. By morning an eerie silence pervaded the old Omungan city. Groups of Chula searched the city, building by building. There were no Motangans left alive.
* * *
“Ophia?” the voice asked softly through the air tunnel.
“She is sleeping,” came the pleasant reply from the roof of the Imperial Palace in Khadoratung. “This is Kaylee. What can I do for the Star of Sakova?”
“Tayo, Kaylee,” smiled Lyra. “I was hoping to find Marak still awake.”
“He is also sleeping,” replied Kaylee. “Is it important?”
“No,” sighed Lyra. “I just returned to StarCity and could not sleep. I was hoping that he was awake.”
Kaylee frowned at the unusual request, but something tugged at her heartstrings. “Wait for a moment, “ she said softly. “I will wake him.”
“That is not necessary,” Lyra replied halfheartedly, but she felt the air tunnel drop on the other end.
A few minutes later, she felt the air tunnel being picked up again.
“Lyra?” asked Marak. “What is wrong?”
“Marak,” replied Lyra, her voice smiling through the air tunnel. “I am sorry to have you awakened. There is nothing wrong that cannot wait until morning.”
“Then let us consider it morning,” Marak replied pleasantly. “I would love to see you. How about meeting me half way?”
“I would like that,” Lyra said, her spirits already rising.
“Then let it be so,” stated Marak. “I will see you shortly.”
The Torak dropped the air tunnel and thanked Kaylee for waking him. He left the roof and stopped off at his quarters to dress in his Torak clan uniform. He took his secret exit from the palace and stole across the city to the temple. In minutes he was in the library of the temple at Changragar. Barely a minute later, the bookshelf moved, and Lyra entered the room. She wore a plain black tunic and black pants. Marak frowned when he saw her garb.
“How is the war going in the Sakova?” he asked apprehensively.
“Not well,” admitted Lyra. “We are losing many good people. Oh, we are getting the better of them odds wise, but I do not think such a trade is worth it. Too many friends are dying, and I almost lost HawkShadow and StarWind yesterday.”
“That would be a severe blow,” nodded Marak as he embraced Lyra to comfort her. “Why are you up so late? Or have you woken early?”
“Late,” answered Lyra. “My people demanded that I remove myself from the battlefield. They are afraid that I will be hurt. If I did not care for them so much, I would be quite angry. It reminds me of my father and how he refused to let me train with the boys.”
“And you always found a way around his edicts,” laughed Marak, “if I remember the stories correctly.”
“You remember well enough,” Lyra laughed before turning serious again. “I don’t like this feeling of helplessness.”
“You are far from helpless,” soothed the Torak. “I heard from Ukaro this evening. He should be attacking Alamar as we speak. With Kaltara’s help, Alamar will be back in friendly hands by morning.”
“Then we can begin to starve the Motangans,” brightened Lyra. “That is good news. I was getting concerned because StarWind found out that Duran has been reopened by the Motangans.”
“Then we must shut it down again,” shrugged Marak as he broke the embrace and began pacing.
“We can’t this time,” frowned Lyra. “There are thousands of Motangans defending it, and they have created defensive works to resist any attempts to reclaim the city.”
“We have no choice,” Marak said adamantly as he stopped pacing and stared at the Star of Sakova. “We cannot allow the Motangans to use Duran as a supply port. It must be retaken or destroyed.”
“Destroyed?” frowned Lyra. “What are you thinking?”
“I am thinking that Kaltara works in mysterious ways,” grinned Marak. “Perhaps you were chased from the battlefield for a purpose. Come with me. We have some work to do.”
The Star of Sakova frowned with curiosity, but she followed Marak out of the temple. The Chula guards were surprised by their presence, but they were not disturbed. Marak led Lyra into the forest and along a narrow trail. Fifteen minutes later they emerged from the forest in a large clearing near a clear alpine lake. Curled up on the shore of the lake was a huge dragon. Myka raised her head lazily and watched the humans approach.
“I am running out of places to hide from you,” snorted the dragon. “At least you have brought your warrior woman with you this time. I guess I will have to be nice.”
“That should tax your small mind,” chuckled the Torak. “Get your lazy body off the ground. We have adventure to pursue.”
“Adventure?” Myka perked up. “You could have at least giving me some notice.”
“You would probably find a better solution to the problem and that would hurt my pride,” grinned the Torak. “Be glad that Lyra and I chose to include you in this adventure.”
“Because you need to fly somewhere no doubt,” taunted the dragon. “What is this adventure?”
“I will explain it while we fly somewhere,” replied Marak.
Chapter 15
Helping Hand
The dragon glided through the dawn sky, banking into a lazy spiral as she circled over the coastal city of Duran. Not many Motangans were awake and moving around, but thousands of tents dotted the city.
“There are more than a thousand Motangan soldiers here,” frowned Lyra, her arms wrapped lovingly around Marak as they sat on the back of the dragon.
“Easily,” agreed the Torak. “Vand is taking no chances of another attack on his supplies. If we even had the ships to attack, we would lose tens of thousands of men trying to retake the city. He is smart enough to understand that his armies must eat to fight.”
“There is no way that the three of us are going to attack Duran,” retorted Lyra. “That would not be adventure; it would be suicide.”