“Time of Calling?” interrupted Rejji.
Mobi nodded and continued, “In the Time of Calling, Kaltara will send forth the Torak and the Star and the Astor and they shall gather the faithful and the faithless as one to stand against the evil. When the evil arrives, the Time of Cleansing begins. The great evil will battle Kaltara’s trio unto the death. Ask me not of the outcome, for this was the end of my vision.”
“So this was the recording of somebody’s vision,” concluded Lord Marak. “And the mural was probably a depiction of what he saw, but what is this great evil?”
“From the reading, I suspect the great evil was embodied in Vand,” responded Mobi. “He was a man who declared himself god thousands of years ago in the time when Angragar was a great city. He built Vandegar Temple as a monument to himself. Legend says that the plains of Vandegar were split in two and one half was swallowed by the sea when he defied God.”
“And what Dumo calls the invaders,” interjected Rejji, “were really the people fleeing from wherever Vand went?”
“I believe so,” nodded Mobi.
“What of the searing of their minds?” asked Marak. “And the part about intermarriage calling the evil?”
“I can only guess,” offered Mobi. “Yltar may be able to decipher it better, but I think they may have used magic to forget where they came from, and the magic might be countered by intermarriage.”
“So the invaders tried to kill all of the indigenous peoples,” added Lord Marak. “No intermarriages and they would be safe, but does that mean someone like Rejji being a half-breed would call this evil?”
“I do not think Rejji is at fault for this,” Mobi said. “Grulak may be though. He is also a half-breed and has made Vandegar Temple his home. He is rumored to be crazy as well. Also, the vision showed the three of you coming during the Time of Calling, which means the one to start it had to come before you.”
“Sounds to me like this Grulak must die quickly,” interjected Halman. “Perhaps the Time of Calling will end with his death.”
“With a Jiadin army of tens of thousands,” frowned Mobi, “I think keeping the Astor alive is a more immediate task than killing Grulak. We need time to prepare for this evil whatever it is.”
“And time is something we are always short on,” nodded Marak. “Take the scroll and let us get out of this city while it is still dark. Have you found our exit, Gunta?”
“Second story at the back is another balcony,” Gunta declared. “We will be two blocks away from where they think we are. Hundreds were gathered in the square when I last looked so there cannot be many in the other parts of the city. If we are stealthy, we will reach the gates undetected.”
“Let’s go then,” decided Lord Marak.
Chapter 29
Attack
Mistake whistled as she skipped across the dew-laden grass. She scrambled up the tree, pausing to look at the large orb of the sun as it crept over the horizon. She squinted as the red flare reflected off the ocean swells. Grinning mischievously, she scampered higher to where Bakhai had stored the large sack of gold. She untied the drawstring of the large sack and thrust her hand into the gold, luxuriating in its feel. She scooped a large handful of the gold and let it slide into her small, empty pouch. Her mind lingered on an image of the quilt she had seen one of the villagers selling yesterday and her hand scooped into the gold again. She started whistling again as she drew the drawstring tight and tied the small pouch to her belt. A bird darted towards the branch she was on and Mistake’s eyes followed it as it flew away.
Her whistling stopped abruptly and she held her breath as she saw the approaching army in the distance. She peered at the army for a moment and then swiftly scampered down the tree. She ran as fast as her legs could carry her as she darted through the gate in the stockade wall. She shouted an alarm as she entered Ghala and then slammed the gate shut. Two villagers appeared by her side and hoisted the bar into position to lock the gates.
“Get everyone into the boats,” she yelled. “Do it now.”
Her warning was echoed through the town all the way to the beach as others spread the word. The villagers began running. Tools were dropped on the ground and tables were overturned as families rushed towards the boats along the river. Bakhai raced to the corral and threw open the gate. Inhuman sounds emanated from his throat as he instructed the horses to seek safety in the clova pens. He turned and raced to the river dock and untied the stern line of the ship docked there. He ran to the bowline and waited impatiently as women lifted their children aboard Lord Marak’s ship.
Mistake raced to her hut and strapped on her belt that contained a multitude of knives. She grabbed Bakhai’s bow and quiver and dashed back towards the stockade wall.
Riktor stood on the riverbank helping people into the small fishing vessels and shoving them off into the flow of the Ghala River. He helped old man Copi into a boat and turned to see Plesy staring at the gates.
“Come on, Father,” Riktor said impatiently, “into the boat.”
“I cannot abandon the town,” Plesy said stubbornly. “It has been my home forever and the young men defending it may need my help.”
Riktor shook his head and lifted the old man off the ground. He marched into the cold water and deposited Plesy into the boat.
“The families out in the sea will need your guidance more,” scolded Riktor as he pushed the boat into the flow of the river. “Keep them out of bow range and keep them from getting too scared.”
Riktor waded out of the river and picked up his bow. He turned and ran for the stockade wall.
Karlo furiously hammered long nails through the thin strips of lumber. He took a finished strip and handed it to Lakado, a recent arrival to Ghala.
“Put this on the path to the warehouse,” Karlo instructed Lakado. “Make sure the nails stick up. Return quickly and I will have more for you to place on the path.”
Pfifer, a trapper who had recently moved to Ghala, dragged tables and chairs into the street between the huts. He laid the obstacles in rows and then placed and armed his animal traps behind each row of furniture.
Bakhai raced to the stockade and slid to a halt next to Mistake.
“Who is it?” he asked. “What did you see?”
“It is the Jiadin,” Riktor called down from the platform that ran along the wall. “They are building a fire just outside our bow range.”
Bakhai’s eyes swept over the two-dozen men manning the platform as he asked, “How many of them?”
“Over a hundred,” one of the villagers shouted. “We may whittle that down quite a bit when they try to attack this wall.”
“Okay,” shouted Bakhai, “but remember, as soon as they breech the wall, head for the boats. We can replace the town, but we do not want to have to replace you men. You all have families out at sea depending on you surviving.”
Mistake handed Bakhai his bow and quiver as she spoke softly, “There is a shed over by the river. You can use that for cover when they break through. I will be behind that large tree in the other direction. Between us, we can whittle them down some more. If the traps work, we may just defeat them all.”
“Providing our archers can get most of them before they break through the wall,” frowned Bakhai. “A hundred men is a bit larger than we had planned on. At least we can provide cover for the men as they run to the waiting boats.”
“The wall is strong,” smiled Mistake. “Even if they try to burn it, it will take some time and the men have buckets of water ready for that.”
“Shouldn’t I lend my bow to the men on the wall?” questioned Bakhai.
“No, answered Mistake. “You will need your arrows to protect the retreat of our men. Go get in position. I will climb the tree I will be using for cover and alert you to what is happening with an Air Tunnel.”