“Do you really think Eltor is in love with me?” she asked MistyTrail. “He has never said so.”
“Nor has Rejji,” smiled MistyTrail. “I am not sure how Eltor feels, but Caldal won’t leave me alone. I think he would cry if Marak managed to get another horse for me to ride.”
* * *
Emperor Marak and his two shadows stepped out of the Kheri Inn and into the predawn streets of Meliban. Dozens of men were already moving through the streets towards the waterfront. The Emperor watched curiously as the citizens moved quickly but quietly. Across the street the door to the administration building opened. Marshal Wyant strode across the street and stood in front of the Emperor.
“You are up early this morning,” greeted the marshal.
“I had a good night’s sleep,” smiled the Torak. “Your city appears to waken early.”
“Only when a Khadoran ship comes to port,” replied Wyant. “We try to unload it as quickly as possible. The captains have told us that they must move with the tides until the harbor is dredged, so we oblige them.”
“I am sure that they are grateful,” Marak replied distractedly. “Do my ships still go to Ghala?”
“Only one a month now,” answered Wyant. “Ghala has become self-sufficient. The ships go there only for trading purposes now. Pretty soon the same will be said for Taggot and Meliban. Your mages have worked wonders with the fields and forests. Fakara’s future is bright today because of you.”
“I only gave help where it was needed,” replied the Emperor. “It is the Fakarans who should be credited with winning back their country. You have been a great help to Rejji. I am glad that you saw the light so early in the war.”
“Even that is partially due to you and your shadows,” Wyant chuckled as his eyes darted to Gunta and Halman. “I still remember that night that you saved me from the slavers’ caravan. I thought my life was over then.”
“Your life is what you make of it,” smiled the Torak. “You have chosen wisely. I know that Rejji depends on you a great deal.”
Marak turned and stared at the backs of the citizens as they moved towards the waterfront. He turned and touched Halman on the arm.
“Go speak to the captain of the vessel,” he ordered. “Tell him that I am in the city and that I don’t want him to leave without my authorization.”
Halman turned and ran towards the waterfront. Wyant stared with curiosity and then looked questioningly at the Emperor.
“I would normally be loathe to utilize one of my ships for personal reasons,” the Emperor explained without being asked, “but it sounds like there is no longer a great need to supply Fakara. I am thinking of using the ship to get to Ghala. It will save us from a long trek through unfamiliar territory, and it would not disturb the shipping schedule a great deal. Perhaps the next ship to Ghala would be a day late.”
“The shipping schedule to Ghala is not of great concern,” agreed Wyant. “It sounds like a good plan. I will round up Rejji and Bakhai so that we do not delay the ship’s departure.”
The Emperor watched the marshal turn and leave. He turned to Gunta and told him to awaken the rest of the party.
* * *
“Sails off the port bow,” shouted the sailor for the rigging. “Make that three ships running hard. They are coming this way, Captain.”
“Man the sails,” shouted Captain Mynor. “We are coming about.”
Two sailors left the stern rail and raced forward to trim the sails.
“Two more off the port beam,” shouted the lookout.
“What do you make of it, Magella?” the captain asked the seaman alongside him who was drawing lines on the chart that he had been creating.
“It is obviously coordinated,” answered Magella. “Five ships appearing at the same time is no coincidence. They are coming for us.”
“As I suspected,” nodded Captain Mynor. “If I were them, I would have a few more far behind us to close in when we turned to flee.”
“I agree,” stated the seaman. “Our best course is the open sea. We will have to abandon the charting for now and pick it up again later.”
“That will waste a few days,” frowned the captain. “The longer we hang around this Island of Darkness, the greater the risks to our ship and crew.”
“Three more sails astern,” shouted the lookout. “They are coming on full sail, Captain.”
“There you have it,” scowled the captain. “We have no choice but to run.” The captain waited until the sailors were ready to man the sails and then shouted, “Coming about now.”
Captain Mynor grabbed the wheel and started turning to starboard. The small craft turned sharply and headed for the open sea.
“Trim the sails full,” shouted the captain. “We are in a race here. Make her sleek.”
The Sprite moved slowly at first as the sailors worked to trim the sails for the new wind. Captain Mynor adjusted the course for maximum speed. By the time the Sprite was up to speed, the eight Motangan ships were quite visible.
“They picked the right wind to spring this attack,” commented Magella. “If we were lazy in watching out for them, they would already be upon us.”
“This is not a voyage where we can afford to be lazy,” replied the captain as he looked over his shoulder at the ships converging on the Sprite. “They are closer to us than I would have liked.”
“They still have the momentum,” frowned Magella, “but I don’t think they can gain any on us now. Not unless the winds change.”
“Give a look, Sean,” shouted the captain. “Tell me what is on those ships.”
“Barrels are lit, Captain,” shouted the lookout. “I see no catapults, but there are scores of archers on the bows.”
“No type of weapons other than the archers?” asked the captain.
“None that I can see, Captain,” replied Sean.
“What are you thinking, Captain?” asked Magella.
“I am wondering if these ships are typical of the ones that will transport the massive armies to the mainland,” mused the captain. “If so, a fleet of small attack ships might succeed in costing the Motangans a great deal of men. I have heard that the attack ships are capable of carrying a thousand men each. Can you imagine the small victory of even one of those ships going to the bottom?”
“It would be suicide for our crews,” frowned Magella, “but the thought is worth pursuing. If their entire navy crosses the sea unhindered, Khadora does not stand a chance of surviving. We would have to build special ships to have any chance of sinking those behemoths. Do you think the Emperor would invest in such a plan?”
“It was Emperor Marak who sent us on this mission,” the captain reminded the seaman. “He wants this island charted for some reason, although I am not privy to his plans. I think if we can present a plan, he will sign onto it.”
“First we have to complete the charting of the Island of Darkness,” frowned Magella as gazed over the stern at the Motangan vessels bearing down on them.
* * *
The officer stormed out of the interrogation room and slammed the door.
“I assume that your efforts failed again?” asked a hooded man as he walked to the closed door and peered through the small window.
He gazed into the interrogation room, which was really a large storeroom with a table in the center of it. Shelves, lined with hundreds of tins, bottles, and piles of cloth, lined the walls. In the center of the room, a young woman was strapped naked to the table. Leather straps bound her legs and arms.
“She is not going to volunteer the information,” replied the officer. “I have threatened her and offered rewards for her cooperation, but she denies that she is a mage. Is there any chance that we grabbed the wrong person?”
“Did she confirm her name?” asked the hooded man.
“She is called Rhoda,” nodded the officer. “Maybe our spies were wrong in selecting her.”
“More likely,” the hooded man smirked, “she requires an expert interrogator. Fortunately for you, I have arrived. Go get some sleep. I will have her talking before you awaken from your nap.”
The officer frowned, but nodded and left the room through a door to the corridor beyond. The interrogator opened the door to the storeroom and walked in. He made a point of closing the door loudly so his victim would know that she had company. He smiled inwardly as the young woman’s head turned in an attempt to see who was coming. The interrogator stood silently outside her field of vision for several moments before approaching the table.