Richard Tuttle - Winged Warrior

The wounded soldier screamed in pain as the others tried to turn around and get a shot off at the large black cat. Several arrows landed close to the jaguar, but luckily none scored a hit. The men chased after Calitora, but the jaguar ran with every ounce of strength that he could muster. A few minutes later their voices faded into the distance. Calitora altered his course in case the men tried to track him. A half hour later he stopped and transformed into a shaman. Remaining in human form for another half hour, Calitora changed his direction again to foil any attempts at tracking. When he reached the rocky slope of the mountains, he transformed back into a jaguar and raced towards the peaks.

By the time Calitora had regained the summit and transformed back into a human, the first lightening of dawn had already arrived. He opened his pack and proceeded to make notes of his findings from the previous night. When the sun peeked over the horizon, Calitora was already fast asleep in the shadows of the peaks.

* * *

“Why are we changing course?” asked Fisher.

“Meliban is just over the horizon,” answered Captain Mynor. “Unless you want us to be seen by the residents of that fine city, we need to head west a bit.”

“Residents?” chuckled Fisher. “The Jiadin infest Meliban now. The rest of the Fakarans have fled towards Angragar. Can we afford the time required to go west before landing?”

“Aye,” nodded the captain. “Those huge behemoths that Vand uses are not very fast across the water. We are hours ahead of Clarvoy. Besides, they will wait until dark to put Clarvoy ashore. They would not want reports of their large ships off the coast to made. You will be ashore and into the city before Clarvoy touches sand beneath his boots.”

“I can ask for no more than that,” Fisher nodded appreciatively as he pulled a red scarf out of his pack and tied it around his neck.

“So you plan to be one of the Jiadin?” questioned the captain as he gazed at the black-clad spy. “Think you can make it believable?”

“I sure hope so,” shrugged Fisher. “I don’t think the Jiadin would look kindly on me if they didn’t believe my disguise.”

Captain Mynor turned the wheel slightly, causing the ship to angle in towards the shore that was not yet visible. Fisher closed his pack and found a dry spot on the deck to stretch out for a nap.

Several hours later, Fisher was awakened by one of the crew. He rose and stretched as he looked at the beach. Not a person was in sight.

“This is as close as we can get you,” offered the captain as he pointed to a spit of land stretching into the sea. “You will have about an hour’s walk once you round that point.”

Fisher nodded and headed towards the bow, which was resting on the beach. He jumped down to the sand and began walking towards Meliban. When he reached the spit of land, he turned around to look. The Sprite was already back at sea, its black sails hardly visible in the waning sunlight.

Fisher spent the next hour walking along the beach and reviewing everything about Meliban and the Jiadin that he knew. He was not overly concerned about being accepted as a Jiadin warrior. The Jiadin were horsemen, and he would draw a lot of attention if he tried to walk through the gates of the city without a horse, but coming along the beach should work well. It would not appear as if he was just arriving in the city, but rather that he was returning from a stroll along the beach.

Dozens of Jiadin were lounging on the beach and sitting on the docks when the city came into view. Several wrestling matches were drawing large crowds, and no one seemed to pay any particular attention to Fisher leaving the beach and heading for the center of the city. Seeing all the red scarves around the city was quite different from the last time Fisher had been to Meliban. On the prior trip the city was still being built and everyone ran around doing something. The Jiadin, however, appeared bored, as if they were out of their element, and Fisher realized that they were. The Jiadin would much rather be riding across the plains attacking something or someone. They were warriors, not city dwellers.

While Fisher walked the streets of Meliban, he tried to figure out the reason for Clarvoy’s visit to the city. That was one thing that Xavo had not been able to ascertain. His mind paused on the reason for Clarvoy’s visit to Alamar, and a chill ran up his back. Fisher wondered what a spy in Meliban would be able to learn for Vand. He immediately decided to talk to the only person in Meliban that he knew anything about, the innkeeper of the Kheri Inn.

Fisher made his way to the Kheri Inn and entered the common room. The room was fairly full and noisy. The spy immediately entered the kitchen and was confronted with a large woman wielding a knife.

“Out!” scowled the woman. “Only workers are allowed back here. Out with you.”

Fisher halted and stared at the woman. She held the knife as if she knew how to use it and was not afraid of spearing a Jiadin or two. He smiled and nodded at her.

“I am looking for Tutman,” Fisher said softly.

The woman’s brow creased in confusion for a moment and then begrudgingly nodded over her shoulder. She turned to the worktable and began hacking the necks off chickens. Fisher moved quickly past the woman before she changed her mind. Off the kitchen was a small office, and the door was open. Fisher saw a man sitting uncomfortably behind a desk, his left leg extended alongside the desk with two boards tied to it. Fisher walked into the office and closed the door. Tutman looked up at the sound of the door closing, concern clearly etched on his face.

“Are you hurt?” asked Fisher.

“What do you think?” snapped Tutman. “Whoever you are, and whatever you want, get out of here. I have had enough for one day.”

“All I want,” Fisher said softly as he continued across the room, “is to talk. I work for Emperor Marak.”

The man’s demeanor changed instantly, although he still looked at Fisher with suspicion.

“What does a Khadoran emperor want with me?” asked Tutman.

“Vand has an interest in Meliban,” declared Fisher. “I am trying to find out what it is.”

“I have no idea,” groused the innkeeper. “Nobody tells me anything.”

“May I look at your leg?” asked Fisher. “It does not appear to be tied well.”

The innkeeper nodded and Fisher knelt next to the desk. He untied the boards and felt the man’s leg. Tutman groaned loudly, but he endured the pain.

“It is broken,” commented Fisher.

“I knew that,” snapped Tutman. “Are you through playing with it?”

“No,” Fisher said as he took the leg in both hands and twisted it.

Tutman howled in pain and the door flew open. The large woman stood in the doorway with her knife and several other women stood behind her.

“It was crooked,” Fisher explained. “If it had been left as it was, you would never have walked again. I set it proper. Now I will tie the boards back. Does it feel better?”

“It does,” Tutman gasped as he nodded. “You are pretty brutal for a healer, son.”

Tutman waved the women back to work, and they closed the door. Fisher tied the boards around the innkeeper’s legs to keep the bone from shifting again.

“Actually,” Fisher said softly, “I am not a healer. I am a spy.”

“A spy?” echoed the innkeeper. “What do you want with me?”

“I think a spy from the Island of Darkness is coming here tonight,” explained Fisher. “I have no idea why. I am hoping that you might be able to think of something. I certainly can’t ask the Jiadin.”

“I can’t imagine a spy accomplishing anything in Meliban,” frowned Tutman. “The Jiadin know less than I do about what is going on, and I don’t know anything. It would be a waste of a trip for anyone to come here.”