Richard Tuttle - Island of Darkness

“It is not,” agreed the Chula shaman. “It is magical in nature. Look at these burn marks along the stalk. It is as if a mist of acid was sprayed upon the plants.”

“But for all of the fields to be infected,” argued Temiker, “someone would have noticed the person spraying the plants.”

“Not necessarily,” countered Ukaro. “The infected areas are even now producing more acid. The winds will carry droplets to the next field. Someone merely needed to start the infection going. The wind will deliver it around the country.”

“How do we counteract it?” asked Temiker. “Is that even possible?”

“It is possible,” nodded Ukaro, “but it will not be easy to explain to the farmers. All of these fields must be destroyed as the first step to a fresh crop.”

“Destroyed?” echoed Temiker. “Do you mean to burn the fields?”

“We must,” nodded Ukaro. “All traces of the poison must be eradicated. The fields can be replanted after the soil is treated to remove the residual poison.”

“That could take several seasons before the fields produce again,” frowned Temiker. “Even the Sakovan supplies will not last long enough to forestall the starvation.”

“I know magics that will speed the growth of new fields,” offered Ukaro. “I will explain them to you, and you can teach them to your students.”

“And what will stop the winds from carrying the poison back to the new fields?” inquired Temiker. “We cannot stop the wind.”

“The poison needs live plants to propagate,” explained the Chula. “We can build a large wall around the new fields. Stone is preferable, but wood will do if it is not live. It must be a barrier tall enough to diminish the amount of poison drifting in from infected fields. The crops must be watched very carefully. At the first sign of infection, the bad crops must be destroyed immediately. It will not be easy, but these fields can be productive again.”

“That is the most encouraging thing I have heard in a long time,” responded Temiker. “I know the people in Alamar. They will donate their time to help these farmers.”

“I will take some samples back to the schoolhouse with me,” Ukaro said as he snapped off several stalks and wrapped them in a cloth. “Perhaps we can find a solution that can counteract the poison. If we can, the fences will not be necessary, but you should plan to erect them until we find that solution.”

“I will speak to the mayor about it,” promised Temiker as his attention was distracted by a group of Imperial Guards riding past the field.

He stared at the small group of men as they rode by. Most of the men were bandaged from what appeared to be recent wounds, as blood had soiled more than one uniform.

“What disturbs you about the soldiers?” asked Ukaro as he saw the Omungan mage watching the Imperial Guards.

“For one,” frowned Temiker, “they appear to be skirting around the city. They have seen recent action so they should be returning to the city, but they are not. In fact, they are taking pains to avoid it.”

“There is more to your worry than that,” probed the Chula shaman. “What is on your mind?”

“I am worried about what that recent action might have been,” admitted Temiker. “There is little organized theft in the eastern provinces. The only foe I could imagine for those troops are the Sakovans. There was a caravan in the city this morning. They should be on their way back to the Sakova by now.”

“Then it seems that Omunga has declared war on the Sakovans,” growled Ukaro. “Perhaps we should destroy those white-clad fools.”

“No,” Temiker said swiftly. “The situation here is tense enough as it is. We shall not act on our imaginations. Let us return to Alamar and find out what has happened.”

Ukaro growled again as Temiker led the way across the field. By the time they reached the road, the Imperial Guards had faded into the distance. Temiker walked quickly as he led the way towards the gates and entered the city.

“Perhaps you should wait at the schoolhouse,” Temiker suggested as he halted in front of the Imperial Guard headquarters. “I doubt the Omungans would appreciate another distraction right now.”

“I will stay with you,” replied Ukaro. “I want to know what happened.”

Temiker sighed anxiously as he nodded and walked up the steps and into the building. General Manitow was in the large foyer talking to another officer. Temiker headed directly for him with Ukaro a few steps behind.

“General Manitow,” interrupted Temiker, “I just saw some Imperial Guards outside the city. They appeared to have been in a recent battle. Do you know anything about that?”

The general turned with annoyance on his face. He stared at the mage and his features softened.

“In battle?” he said distractedly. “No battle has been reported to me. What makes you think there has been a battle?”

“Many of them were bandaged,” reported Temiker. “There was blood on their uniforms and they appeared to be avoiding entrance to the city. They came from the north.”

“How many soldiers?” asked the general.

“Around a dozen,” answered Temiker.

“There were twenty of them this morning,” stated the officer who had been speaking with the general. “I think your fears are justified after all. Our food deliveries are over.”

“Send out men to bring those soldiers back here,” General Manitow snapped. “Use force if necessary. I ordered that captain to return directly to General Romero. I did not give him leave to organize attacks in my province.”

“As you command,” saluted the officer.

“I also want a squad to look for the Sakovan caravan,” continued the general. “Send a healer with them.”

“Are they to be arrested?” asked the officer.

“No,” sighed the general. “They are to be aided. I doubt that we will find them alive, but we must try.”

MistyTrail leaned over and gently shook Mistake. She placed her hand lightly on Mistake’s lips, and the Fakaran thief opened her eyes and stared questioningly at MistyTrail. The unspoken question was answered by the dull sound of voices coming from below. Mistake immediately sat up.

“How long have they been here?” whispered Mistake.

“They just arrived,” MistyTrail whispered back. “It sounds like only two of them. The first floor must have been flooded during the night because they were complaining about cleaning it up.”

“Only two?” questioned Mistake. “Maybe we can overpower them and flee.”

“Not a good idea,” advised MistyTrail. “Two others are coming by boat. I guess that old rowboat is not the only boat they use. Mistake,” she frowned as she continued, “I think they use this house to keep watch on the sea. I do not know where we are, but I suspect that it is someplace where strangers are not welcome. We need to sneak out of here.”

Pounding footsteps on the stairs made both women reach for their knives, but the noise stopped on the floor below them.

“It’s dry up here,” shouted the second story man. “I am going to open the shutters and let things dry out.”

“How can we sneak out?” whispered Mistake. “There is only one staircase. Don’t you think they will come up here and open these shutters too?”

“Then we best move quickly,” MistyTrail decided as she rose and tiptoed to the clothesline.

She gathered their clothes and stuffed them into Mistake’s pack. She handed the pack to Mistake and then picked up her own and strapped it over her borrowed red uniform. Mistake rose and untied the long rope they had strung up for a clothesline.

“We can’t lower ourselves by rope,” warned MistyTrail. “It will dangle directly in front of the window downstairs.”