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Authors: Richard S. Tuttle
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of Darkness. A portion of those will be coming to Khadora. I suspect that four to five hundred thousand will be allocated to fight against us. We will also be badly outnumbered.”
“The largest armies that we have are the Fakarans,” frowned Lord Kiamesh, “yet there is nothing there for Vand to plunder. Still, he would have to allocate at least three hundred thousand to Fakara to be assured of victory. That means that we are more likely to face four hundred thousand in Khadora than five.”
“I cannot fault your reasoning,” nodded Emperor Marak. “The real danger is even worse. If Vand can quickly crush either the Sakovans or the Fakarans, his armies allocated to those countries can flank us by coming over the mountains.”
“Which is why you want the frontier estates left intact,” interjected Lord Quilo. “That makes perfect sense now. They are our buffer against a surprise flanking movement.”
“Precisely,” nodded Marak, “but there will come a time when we are forced to use them.”
“Thus your conflict with sending the Chula to aid the Sakovans,” nodded Lord Faliman. “In essence, they will be helping us no matter where they fight, but we must decide where they will be the most effective.”
* * *
The Star of Sakova had a fitful night that was not very restful. Besides the nightmares, every strange sound awakened her. She knew that her nerves were on edge with the impending invasion, so she decided to give up on sleeping. She wandered out of the Imperial Guard headquarters where she had been given a room. The streets were empty and the city was quiet. She saw solders upon the wall that surrounded the city and assumed that others were patrolling the waterfront.
Lyra wandered the streets of Alamar with no particular destination in mind. Her mind wandered as erratically as her feet did. Images of her youth flashed through her mind, suddenly replaced with the sights and sounds of ancient Angragar. She remembered her first journey into the Sakova with her friends Syman and Antello, who had grown to become full-fledged Sakovans. Visions of her entire life passed through her head, but her thoughts always returned to Marak. No matter how much she tried to put him out of her mind and concentrate on other things, his smiling face always ended up stuck in her mind.
“You are going to wear those boots out,” came a friendly voice from the shadow. “Can’t sleep?”
“Uncle Temiker,” smiled Lyra. “I guess there is too much on my mind to sleep this night.”
“Uncle?” chuckled the old mage. “I haven’t been called that in a while. I thought you would be thinking about the coming battle, but it sounds like your mind is in the past. What is bothering you?”
“I’m not sure,” Lyra admitted. “My mind has been wandering all night, but it always comes back to Marak.”
“You like him a lot, don’t you?” asked Temiker.
“I love him,” smiled Lyra, “but that hardly matters. It is a love that can never be. Perhaps if we had met in another place or another time, we would have a happy life together, but this war will tear us apart.”
“The odds are against any of us living through this war,” shrugged Temiker, “but those are just odds. People have beaten the odds before. Besides, you have Kaltara. You haven’t lost your faith, have you?”
“Certainly not,” Lyra shook her head vigorously.
“Well,” smiled the mage, “you are special in Kaltara’s eyes. If anyone survives this war it will be you and Marak.”
“That is where you are wrong,” frowned Lyra. “We have been chosen by Kaltara and given positions of great responsibility, but we are merely tools of Kaltara. We are the instruments to revive the people’s faith in God. Our task is almost over.”
“You think Kaltara is using you?” frowned Temiker.
“Of course He is,” nodded Lyra. “Do not take my words in the wrong sense. I am not feeling abused by God. I am thrilled to be His tool for the
“The largest armies that we have are the Fakarans,” frowned Lord Kiamesh, “yet there is nothing there for Vand to plunder. Still, he would have to allocate at least three hundred thousand to Fakara to be assured of victory. That means that we are more likely to face four hundred thousand in Khadora than five.”
“I cannot fault your reasoning,” nodded Emperor Marak. “The real danger is even worse. If Vand can quickly crush either the Sakovans or the Fakarans, his armies allocated to those countries can flank us by coming over the mountains.”
“Which is why you want the frontier estates left intact,” interjected Lord Quilo. “That makes perfect sense now. They are our buffer against a surprise flanking movement.”
“Precisely,” nodded Marak, “but there will come a time when we are forced to use them.”
“Thus your conflict with sending the Chula to aid the Sakovans,” nodded Lord Faliman. “In essence, they will be helping us no matter where they fight, but we must decide where they will be the most effective.”
* * *
The Star of Sakova had a fitful night that was not very restful. Besides the nightmares, every strange sound awakened her. She knew that her nerves were on edge with the impending invasion, so she decided to give up on sleeping. She wandered out of the Imperial Guard headquarters where she had been given a room. The streets were empty and the city was quiet. She saw solders upon the wall that surrounded the city and assumed that others were patrolling the waterfront.
Lyra wandered the streets of Alamar with no particular destination in mind. Her mind wandered as erratically as her feet did. Images of her youth flashed through her mind, suddenly replaced with the sights and sounds of ancient Angragar. She remembered her first journey into the Sakova with her friends Syman and Antello, who had grown to become full-fledged Sakovans. Visions of her entire life passed through her head, but her thoughts always returned to Marak. No matter how much she tried to put him out of her mind and concentrate on other things, his smiling face always ended up stuck in her mind.
“You are going to wear those boots out,” came a friendly voice from the shadow. “Can’t sleep?”
“Uncle Temiker,” smiled Lyra. “I guess there is too much on my mind to sleep this night.”
“Uncle?” chuckled the old mage. “I haven’t been called that in a while. I thought you would be thinking about the coming battle, but it sounds like your mind is in the past. What is bothering you?”
“I’m not sure,” Lyra admitted. “My mind has been wandering all night, but it always comes back to Marak.”
“You like him a lot, don’t you?” asked Temiker.
“I love him,” smiled Lyra, “but that hardly matters. It is a love that can never be. Perhaps if we had met in another place or another time, we would have a happy life together, but this war will tear us apart.”
“The odds are against any of us living through this war,” shrugged Temiker, “but those are just odds. People have beaten the odds before. Besides, you have Kaltara. You haven’t lost your faith, have you?”
“Certainly not,” Lyra shook her head vigorously.
“Well,” smiled the mage, “you are special in Kaltara’s eyes. If anyone survives this war it will be you and Marak.”
“That is where you are wrong,” frowned Lyra. “We have been chosen by Kaltara and given positions of great responsibility, but we are merely tools of Kaltara. We are the instruments to revive the people’s faith in God. Our task is almost over.”
“You think Kaltara is using you?” frowned Temiker.
“Of course He is,” nodded Lyra. “Do not take my words in the wrong sense. I am not feeling abused by God. I am thrilled to be His tool for the
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