“Not in this lifetime,” snarled the Jiadin warrior as he turned and stormed towards the door. “In fact, I may just come back up here with a few dozen men to teach you a lesson about toying with the Jiadin.”
The warrior stormed out of the room, and Brakas kicked a chair across the floor. Aakuta could almost feel the fury and frustration in Brakas from his place of concealment. When he was sure that the warrior was long gone, Aakuta flicked his wrist at the door. It slammed shut. Brakas turned abruptly and stared at the door. Aakuta chose that moment to walk out of the small pocket of fog in the corner.
“You?” exclaimed Brakas. “You are the one who killed Zygor and led the Jiadin against us in Khadora. What are you doing here?”
“Aren’t you afraid that the warriors will come back up here and tear you to shreds?” asked Aakuta.
“No,” scowled Brakas. “They talk tough, but they don’t want to mess with me. They know that Vand’s mages favor and protect me. Who are you?”
“You may call me Aakuta,” the dark mage smiled under his hood as he approached Brakas. “I heard you mention that Vand was sending a replacement. Where and when will he arrive?”
“I don’t give that information out to anyone,” Brakas replied adamantly. “Who paid you to attack us in Khadora? I can pay you more to work on our side.”
“That is very generous of you,” Aakuta said charmingly. “When and where will this magician arrive?”
“I don’t sell out my friends,” insisted Brakas. “I will tell you nothing.”
Aakuta’s hand shot out and grabbed Brakas by the throat. The Fakaran’s eyes bulged as the mage tightened his grip, cutting off the air to the Jiadin’s lungs.
“You don’t have any friends,” scowled Aakuta, “and if you did, you would sell them for a copper, just like you did to the Zaldoni. And as for Vand’s people protecting you from me, you just need to dwell on what happened to Zygor. I will ask you one more time. Where and when? Answer or die.”
Terror covered the face of Brakas as the Jiadin tried to indicate that he would tell the mage what he wanted to know. His lungs burned, and his eyes felt like they would pop out of their sockets. Suddenly, Aakuta released Brakas. The Jiadin dropped to his knees and gasped for breath.
“Speak,” commanded the dark mage.
“Down near the mouth of the Meliban River,” gasped Brakas. “He will arrive by boat. I don’t know exactly when, but I think it will be soon. Vand has spies all over the place. He seems to know everything that goes on here.”
“Will it be one man alone?” asked Aakuta. “Or will others drop him off?”
“He will arrive in a small boat,” answered Brakas. “He will destroy the boat. Zygor said they never come more than one at a time. That is all that I know.”
“Then you have outlived your usefulness,” Aakuta declared as he grabbed Brakas by the throat again.
Brakas tried to scream for help, but the mage’s grip was already too tight. Aakuta tightened his grip and lifted the Jiadin off the floor. He held Brakas aloft as the man struggled for breath. Eventually, Brakas stopped struggling. Aakuta tossed the body to the floor and strode for the door, a new dense fog already forming before him.
* * *
The morning sky was gray, and a light drizzle dampened the air as Larst, First Minister of Omunga, rode towards the small farmhouse on the outskirts of Okata. The squad of Imperial Guards, which was escorting the highest-ranking official of the country, looked around warily. The mood was always tense when the First Minister met secretly with the Star of the Sakova, as the two nations had been bitter enemies for centuries. The squad leader’s eyes scanned the dim landscape looking for any sign of Sakovan warriors. He saw nothing that posed a threat to the dignitary, yet he remained tense and ready to spring into action.
Larst’s mind was preoccupied with the upcoming meeting with Lyra, the young woman who led the Sakovan nation. He paid little attention to where he was going. He left such trivial details to the Imperial Guards, so it was slightly startling to him when the squad leader called a halt and issued orders for his men to disperse and secure the area.
“We are here already?” Larst asked distractedly.
“We are,” replied the squad leader. “Please wait until my men have secured the area and searched the building.”
“That is hardly necessary,” shrugged the First Minister as he dismounted. “The Sakovans have shown that they harbor no ill will towards us. This is not my first meeting with Lyra, and it will not be my last. Have your men wait outside.”
Larst strode to the door of the small farmhouse and knocked loudly. The door opened immediately, and Lyra smiled at the Omungan.
“You are early,” greeted the Star of Sakova. “Please come in.”
“You are a ray of sunshine in this dreary day,” smiled Larst as he entered the farmhouse. “Did you travel here alone?”
“I am never permitted to travel alone,” replied Lyra as she led the First Minister into a small sitting room, “but we are alone in this house. We can speak honestly about the situation regarding our two nations.”
“That is refreshing,” Larst said as he sat down next to Lyra. “The Imperial Guards wanted to search the house before allowing me to enter. I suppose it will take a long time before our peoples can trust one another.”
“The history of our struggle is not so easily washed away,” agreed the Star of Sakova. “These meetings are historic. They mark the first generation to actually sit down and discuss our differences. It is exciting.”
“That is it,” nodded Larst as he gazed at the notes he had prepared for the meeting. “We have covered much in the last few meetings. I believe we left off in the last session while discussing a road through the Sakova. It would aid travel for Omungans seeking to reach the opposite coast. Have you thought about it?”
“I have,” nodded Lyra. “I think several roads will be permissible. A road from Gatong to Zaramilden would be fairly short and connect the two cities that are currently the farthest apart by existing roads. Another road from Campanil to Tanzaba, and one from Tanzaba to Breele, would make travel much easier for all Omungans.”
“That is much more than I had hoped for,” smiled the First Minister. “Zaramilden has long been cut off from the rest of Omunga by the Wall of Mermidion, and the other two roads would speed commerce greatly. Your offer will bring cheers from my people. No one will doubt the sincerity of the Sakovan desire for peace.”
“We are sincere about peace,” smiled Lyra. “Sakovans and Omungans will work side-by-side to build these roads. By the time they are completed, our peoples will have learned to trust one another.”
“Excellent,” beamed the First Minister. “What can we do in return for your offer?”
“We do not seek anything in return,” answered Lyra, “but I still have concerns about the Omungan army. I heard that General Didyk has recently journeyed to Khadora. The general has never embraced peace with Sakova. Do you know why he was in Khadora?”
“Didyk in Khadora?” frowned Larst. “This is the first that I have heard of it. I agree with your apprehensions. There is no valid reason for such a trip as far as I know. Are you sure about this?”
“I am positive,” nodded Lyra. “As you are aware, not too long ago some Omungans used the pretense of war with Khadora as an excuse to attack Sakovans. I do not wish to see that happen again.”
“Nor I,” Larst said adamantly. “I will look into this trip when I return to Okata. I will not allow our generals to foment trouble between our peoples. We have enough problems with this strange disease affecting our crops and animals. We do not need to add war to the mix.”
“Is the disease still spreading?” Lyra asked with concern.
“Rapidly,” nodded the First Minister. “It is unlike anything we have ever encountered. It not only infects our crops, but now our animals are dying. It has spread around the country like a flash fire. There is no part of Omunga that does not suffer from it now. I think the first priority of the new Katana will be to address the starvation of the people.”