“Are we off to Meliban next?” asked the animal talker. “Is that where we will meet up with Lord Marak?”
“He is Emperor Marak now,” chuckled Rejji. “You must get used to his new title, or you will offend him when he arrives.”
“The Torak is not easily offended,” countered Bakhai. “I do not think he would even notice if I called him Lord Marak.”
“You are probably right,” shrugged Rejji. “You could probably even drop the title of lord, and he would not care. Still, try to be politely proper. There will be others traveling with him, and I do not want the Fakarans to be embarrassed.”
“I will try,” agreed Bakhai.
“I do not think we need to go to Meliban at this time,” Rejji said. “In fact, Marak may not even stop there. We have built inns every half-day’s ride between Ghala and the Fortung Mountains. Depending on when he enters the country, he might bypass the city.”
“I think he will stop even if it is just a half-day’s journey for that day,” Bakhai insisted. “He has a great curiosity, and he will want to see what you have accomplished. He will stop at Meliban.”
Rejji frowned as he saw a man dressed in a dark cloak following Adger, the leader of the Mutang tribe. What caught Rejji’s attention was that the man was walking with his hood concealing his face. Rejji knew of no Mutang tribesman who would dress in such a fashion. He tapped Bakhai on the arm and nodded in the direction of the man. Bakhai turned and stared at the stranger as the hooded man started to close the distance between himself and Adger. Bakhai unsnapped his bow and nocked an arrow.
“Adger,” shouted Rejji. “Come here please.”
The leader of the Mutang tribe turned and smiled at Rejji. He changed direction and started walking towards the square. The hooded man suddenly pulled a knife from beneath his cloak and darted towards Adger. Bakhai aimed and released his arrow without a second thought. The arrow struck the assailant in the chest, and his body tumbled to the ground. Adger turned and stared at the body as Rejji and Bakhai ran towards him.
“Do you know him?” Rejji asked Adger as he used his staff to push back the hood of the assailant.
“I have never seen him before,” Adger shook his head. “What is this all about?”
“He was following you,” answered Bakhai. “When Rejji called to you, this man pulled a knife and ran towards you. He was going to kill you.”
“Why me?” asked Adger. “Do you think he is Jiadin?”
“You are a tribal leader,” answered Rejji as he stared at the assassin’s face. “I think that makes you a target for Vand’s people as well as the remnants of the Jiadin. Emperor Marak warned that hellsouls would be coming to our lands. Perhaps this is one of them.”
“How can we tell for sure?” asked Adger.
Rejji saw the body move, and he forcefully jabbed the dead body with his staff. The body instantly turned to smoke, the cloak collapsing flat on the street.
“He was a hellsoul,” declared Rejji. “The Staff of the Astor banishes them.”
“That is fine if everyone carries a Staff of the Astor,” frowned Adger. “How are the rest of us supposed to deal with creatures that will not die?”
“I do not have an answer for that,” frowned Rejji. “Perhaps I will find one in Angragar.”
“You are going to the lost city?” Adger asked with excitement. “Do you want company?”
“Wyant and Bakhai are going with me,” replied Rejji. “Perhaps I can arrange for more to see the city in the future. Do not spread the word of our trip. Things are still too unsettled in Fakara for my liking.”
“You can trust the secret with me,” Adger readily agreed. “When will you be going?”
“In a few days,” answered Rejji. “We may leave earlier to visit Meliban, but I have not made my mind up yet.”
“I will keep things running smoothly here in your absence,” promised Adger. “Taggot is almost complete. What will we do next?”
“Farm production is at the top of the list,” answered Rejji. “I also want to create towns around the inns we have built across the country. I envision them as centers of commerce for the surrounding farmlands.”
“More likely they will become targets for the remnants of the Jiadin,” frowned Adger.
“I still hope to win over the Jiadin,” replied the Astor. “We have had enough internal strife in this country. It is time to unite and prepare to defend it. You must look at the Jiadin as misguided souls, not as the enemy. We will need their strength to defeat Vand.”
“That is a hard adjustment after the treachery of the Jiadin,” frowned Adger, “but we all believe in you. If that is what you wish, we will follow your commands.”
“That is what I wish,” smiled Rejji.
* * *
The eight travelers descended out of the Fortung Mountains into Fakara. They rode silently along a well-beaten path across the arid wasteland until finally they saw trees in the distance. The hooded rider gazed towards the setting sun to gauge the amount of daylight left.
“Two hours until dark,” Axor stated. “We will reach the forest long before that.”
“Did you have a hand in its creation?” asked Emperor Marak.
“No,” Axor replied, “although some from our tribe did. There are broad fields of grain a ways into the forest. I suspect that is where the Fakarans would construct an inn. We should arrive at dusk.”
Further back in the column, MistyTrail rode alongside Caldal. He rode with a continual frown upon his face.
“What is bothering you, Caldal?” asked the Sakovan. “You always look so sad, or angry. I can never tell which.”
“This land is desolate,” replied the elf. “It is not a land that elves should be in.”
“I doubt that is the reason for your moodiness,” countered MistyTrail. “You were the same riding through the lush fields of Khadora and over the majestic Fortung Mountains. Do you not trust me enough to be honest with me?”
Caldal rode on in silence for several minutes as he was weighing MistyTrail’s question in his mind. Finally, he sighed and faced the Sakovan.
“I like you a great deal,” admitted Caldal, “and I am eternally grateful for your part in rescuing me from the Island of Darkness. I want very much to be honest with you, but I find it hard to express my feelings. I should not be here. I do not belong in the land of humans, yet here I am, riding with a group of my enemy. In some ways I think that this is a great chance to learn about the humans, but then I realize that I am not here of my own free will. I am not chained as I was in Motanga, but I still have no say in my future. I am a prisoner.”
“You are no such thing,” protested MistyTrail. “Emperor Marak would allow you to leave if you wished to. I think he would try to talk you out of it, but in the end he will allow you to make the decision for yourself.”
“And leave you and Eltor?” questioned Caldal. “Perhaps the two of you are the chains that hold me here.”
“I don’t believe that you are being honest with yourself,” retorted MistyTrail. “You are not being forced on this journey against your will. In fact, you are being privileged to accompany the Torak to the lost city of Angragar. Many Khadorans would have volunteered to take your place. There is something deeper bothering you.”
Again Caldal fell silent for a time. As the column entered the forest, his spirits seemed to brighten.
“Maybe you are right,” Caldal said. “Emperor Marak has been a gracious host. The chains that hold me are wholly within my mind. I am not sure that you can understand this, but I will try to explain.”
MistyTrail smiled and nodded encouragingly.
“Elves are taught early that we have no friends in this world,” Caldal continued. “There have been times throughout history when the elves have reached out to others. Each and every time that hand has been cut off. Now the elves are isolated from the rest of the world, and we are taught that our existence depends on maintaining our distance from others.”
“Yet you and Eltor rebelled against that,” MistyTrail pointed out. “You sailed past the Barrier Islands to see what the rest of the world is like.”