The forest got darker as he quietly rode deeper into the valley. The path was relatively clear of leaves and the horse caused only a minor disturbance. Still, he dismounted and tied the horse to a tree and continued along the path on foot. His legs trembled slightly when he heard a sound off to his right. The noise did not sound like a person sneaking up on him, but rather like an animal stalking its prey. Marak thought back to the descriptions of the tigers that the Fardale men said their woodsman saw. He silently berated himself for losing concentration and steeled himself for attack as he continued along the path.
Marak came to a small clearing and could just make out the scar of a woodsman’s ax on one of the trees. He stopped walking and slowly turned in a circle. There were very slight noises all around him, but nothing he could identify. His eyes picked up several shapes moving on the path he had just walked along and tried to follow them, but they merged with the darkness of the forest and Marak returned to concentrating on his other senses.
Lord Marak was startled by a brilliant flash of light in the woods and his head turned instinctively towards it, even as his body was dropping to the ground. The flash was a strange blue-white light and Marak watched in slow motion as the projectile soared towards him.
Chapter 8
Kywara
Lord Marak hit the ground and hugged it as the blue-white light exploded above him, creating eerie shadows and illuminating the warriors and tigers surrounding him. Marak glanced up at the brilliant globe of light spinning high over his head and quickly clamped his eyes shut. Still, the light sparkled through his eyelids and Marak slowly and cautiously pushed himself off the ground.
With steady hands, Marak slowly and obviously removed his sword from its sheath and laid it gently on the ground. Next he removed the two belt knives and placed them on the ground. Looking towards the path at the Chula sitting calmly but attentively on their tigers, Marak removed the two throwing knives from their sheaths attached to his forearms and gently laid them next to the sword. Finally, while scanning the hillside from which the light had come, Marak removed two Omunga Stars from his broad Situ belt and placed them on the ground.
Marak distinctly heard a chuckle when he had finished discarding his weapons and stood with his arms outstretched and his palms facing upward.
With a loud voice that reverberated through the woods, Marak called out. “I have not come to invade you by myself. I have come to talk about an ending to the bloodshed. Will your Tribe Leader hear my words or is the senseless killing to continue?”
A tall, muscular Chula, clad only in a breechcloth, materialized out of the trees and walked up to Marak. The Chula warrior quickly ran his hands over Marak and stood back, waving to some unseen person. Another Chula warrior stepped out of the bushes and gathered up Marak’s weapons. Marak was impressed by the stealthiness of the Chula warriors. The first Chula warrior gently reached up and pulled Marak’s headband down over the Lord’s eyes, effectively blindfolding him.
Marak felt firm hands take hold of each of his arms and start leading him up the hillside. His two escorts managed to make the trip uneventful and fifteen minutes later Marak was set down on the floor near a fire.
“You may remove your blindfold,” offered a deep, solid voice.
Marak pushed his headband back up onto his forehead and glanced around the hut. Across from him was a muscular, powerful looking man dressed in deerskin. Marak assumed the voice belonged to the deerskin-clad man because the person sitting next to him looked like he should purr, rather than speak in a deep voice. The second person resembled a man with pronounced cat-like features. He had a full mane of hair, which Marak could picture as being appropriate on a lion. His eyes were narrow slits and long whiskers extended from above his split lips.
“Thank you,” stated Marak. “I am Lord Marak of Fardale and I have come to talk about peace between our peoples.”
“Peace?” purred the cat man. “Do you call sneaking, heavily armed, onto our lands in the dark of night a proper prelude to peace?”
“If the people of Fardale knew I was coming here,” explained Marak, “they would have tried to come with me. You would have taken it for another invasion and we would not be sitting here talking. Yes. I call it a proper prelude to peace talks.”
“Well spoken,” smiled the deerskin-clad man. “I am Tmundo, Leader of the Kywara Tribe. With us is Rykoma, our Grand Shaman. We shall honor your bravery in coming here with talk of peace. It is well that you did not bring another army onto our lands.”
“It is my desire to never bring another army onto your lands,” declared Marak. “It is also my intention to make sure that the Kywara never sneak into Fardale and murder my people again.”
“Murder?” cried Rykoma. “Your people were warned of the consequences of invading the Sitari Valley before they came. Our people only delivered what we promised.”
“If that is true,” questioned Marak, “how can I make sure that it does not happen again?”
“If that is true?” scolded Rykoma. “If that is true? Do you doubt the word of the Kywara?”
Tmundo gently laid his hand on Rykoma’s arm and the shaman fell silent. “The Kywara are known for the truth of their word,” Tmundo stated softly. “Not only the literal truth, like the flatlanders, but the spirit of the truth, as well. If I give my word that no flatlanders will be harmed by Kywara inside Fardale, you may trust it with my life.”
“I will accept your words as truth,” conceded Marak, “but I do not seek your life. I could order my people to stay out of the Sitari Valley, but I would not guarantee their performance with my life. I would guarantee it with the forfeited lives of any offenders, though.”
“So, you fear a lack of control over the people of Fardale,” Tmundo pointed out. “You appear to be wise and honest. Does this mean that you will order your people to stay out of the valley?”
“I will so order,” Lord Marak offered, “if you give your word about Fardale in return.”
“Before I do so,” hesitated Tmundo, “I want to know more about you and Fardale. I know that you have brought fresh soldiers to Fardale with you. Why have they come?”
“I was scheduled to lead them here in two weeks' time to assist Lord Lashendo in defeating you,” admitted Marak. “The men I have brought with me are the men of my Corte. I was a Cortain when we heard of the murders and our departure was moved up to leave Lituk Valley immediately.”
“So, you admit that the soldiers were sent here to destroy us?” interrupted Rykoma.
“I admit that those were the orders I was to follow before we heard of the murders,” continued Marak. “Things have changed since then and I am now in a position to redirect their efforts.”
“I am confused,” Tmundo said. “You are a minor officer in the Situ Army. You had orders to assist Lord Lashendo in destroying us. Now you show up as Lord Lashendo’s replacement, with the same troops, and you expect us to believe that we are in no danger of attack?”
“Yes,” declared Lord Marak. “My men and myself have no reason to wish you harm. We follow orders and those orders were to assist Lord Lashendo with his military operation. Lord Lashendo is dead and no longer in control of Fardale. I am Lord of Fardale and the soldiers will follow my orders. I do not wish war with the Kywara. I also do not wish to send my men back to serve under Lord Ridak. They will stay in Fardale.”