Richard Tuttle - Island of Darkness

“You will have my full attention,” promised StormSong. “I cannot help wondering if I have offended our Star in some way, but I have trained to put such matters out of my mind when battle is called for. I will succeed at whatever you assign to me.”

“I know you will,” smiled HawkShadow. “I also know that you are incapable of offending Lyra, so put it out of your mind completely.”

StormSong nodded silently, and HawkShadow turned to lead the group back to the campsite. Within minutes they arrived. The campsite was empty, but as HawkShadow gave a signal, the Sakovans started entering the campsite from their hiding places. They all looked curiously at the Chula shaman and his tiger. As HawkShadow started the introductions, Ukaro petted his tiger and sent him away. The tiger disappeared silently into the forest.

The campsite returned to normal as groups separated to eat or plan for the battle. HawkShadow brought a large helping of venison and handed it to Ukaro. The Chula shaman smiled and nodded.

“You mentioned some kind of action this evening,” Ukaro said between bites. “What size force are you opposing?”

“There is a group of a thousand Imperial Guards that have been making their way slowly into the Sakova,” answered HawkShadow. “SkyDancer, Goral, and I have been doing our best to keep them on edge and slow them down. They are pretty nervous now. I want one more chance to frazzle them before the attack tomorrow. A few of us will sneak into their camp tonight. We will hack off the hair from as many as we dare. That is all we plan to do.”

“Interesting,” mused Ukaro. “I take it that the loss of their hair is significant?”

“It is,” nodded HawkShadow. “It serves two purposes. First it lets the soldiers know that they could have been killed just as easily. Second, it troubles those who still have their hair to see a great number of their brethren without their tails. We have been doing this for some time with this group. The plan for tomorrow is to attack them. If we do it correctly, the majority of them will run screaming.”

“Clever,” responded Ukaro, “but why not just annihilate the thousand intruders?”

“There is another group coming after them,” frowned HawkShadow. “That second group numbers ten thousand. We cannot possibly hope to scare that many men. What we can hope to do is frighten the second group by letting them hear the stories of the first group. I think that will be more effective than annihilating the thousand men.”

“I suspect that you are correct,” nodded Ukaro. “Your group is far too small to oppose ten thousand men. I wonder if even just a thousand is a stretch for this small group. You will be outnumbered ten to one.”

“If the Omungans were not already frightened,” frowned HawkShadow, “your analysis would be valid. We will win the day tomorrow. Of that I have no doubt. What bothers me is the cost to our people. One cannot expect to go against such odds and escape unscathed. Some fine Sakovans will not survive tomorrow’s battle.”

“Such is the way of war,” shrugged Ukaro. “I suspect that the Sakovans, like the Chula, have been losing warriors steadily over the years. Each loss is a disaster, yet each warrior freely gives his life for the benefit of the others. Do not lessen their gift with too much sorrow. Be glad that your people love you enough to make the ultimate sacrifice.”

“I think the Chula and the Sakovans have much in common,” replied HawkShadow. “I have heard your words before, but they came from the mouth of a Sakovan.”

“Then you have had wise counsel,” smiled the Chula shaman. “Why are the Omungans afraid to come here? Surely, it is more than just your cutting of their hair?”

“It is,” nodded HawkShadow. “For many years we have sent people into the Omungan cities to spread tales about the dangerous Sakova. The tales speak of strange and mysterious creatures that abide in the Sakova. They speak of innumerable ways to die. Basically, we have painted a picture so bleak that Omungans have come to dread the Sakova. Even these soldiers would not dare to come here except for the specific orders that they cannot disobey.”

“You must tell me as many of these tales as you can,” urged Ukaro. “I am sure that they will point to a way that I can help.”

* * *

Ukaro woke early and sat watching the Sakovans rise and prepare for a day of battle. SkyDancer noticed the Chula shaman and brought him a cup of coffee.

“Thank you,” Ukaro smiled, his nose crinkling and his long whiskers dancing lightly in the soft morning breeze. “You Sakovans are indeed a kindred folk to the Chula. I almost feel at home here in the Sakova watching the camp come alive.”

“It is a shame that our people became so isolated,” remarked SkyDancer as she sat down next to Ukaro. “I suspect that we could have learned much from each other over the years.”

“We will not be isolated much longer,” replied Ukaro. “The long awaited day of Kaltara is soon upon us.” Ukaro’s eyes roved over the campsite and returned to gaze upon SkyDancer. “I do not see HawkShadow this morning,” he continued. “Do you know how his foray into the enemy campsite went last night?”

“I am letting him sleep in,” smiled SkyDancer. “We had a hard night of it.”

“You were with the group last night?” asked the Chula shaman.

“It was just HawkShadow and myself,” nodded SkyDancer. “The Omungans were more nervous than we thought. Half of the camp was awake last night. We only managed to get six tails.”

“Six tails with half the camp awake is quite a testament to your skill,” congratulated Ukaro. “What is the plan for today?”

“We pretty much know the path that the Omungans will take,” answered SkyDancer. “We will have several Sakovans show themselves at times throughout the day. The intent is to make them more nervous. Sometime after high sun the Omungans will enter a narrow defile. That is where we will attack them. It is hoped that we will only have to kill a small percentage of them before they are routed.”

“So you expect their nervousness to cause enough havoc that the Omungans will flee in the face of danger?” asked Ukaro.

“Precisely,” nodded SkyDancer. “At least that is HawkShadow’s plan.”

“It is a sound one,” commented Ukaro. “Why the showing of Sakovans during the day? Would it not be better to eliminate a few Omungans before the defile instead of just scaring them?”

“That is an option,” answered a groggy HawkShadow as he appeared from behind a giant fargi tree. “I am loath to break the Omungans stride towards the defile, though. If we can safely eliminate a few stragglers before the defile, we will do so.”

“Who are these Sakovans that will show themselves?” asked the Chula shaman. “Why will that rile the Omungans?”

“Some Sakovans are stark enough figures that they can reinforce the tales told over the years,” smiled HawkShadow. “You met Goral yesterday. Imagine him astride a choka. That sight is sure to unnerve the Omungans. In fact, we have used that tactic before and it worked quite well.”

“I can picture that image,” chuckled Ukaro. “It would be enough to catch the attention of even the Chula. I would like to offer my services if I may.”

HawkShadow stared at the Chula shaman for a moment. His appraising gaze ended with the corners of his mouth turning upward in a grin.

“Astride your tiger?” he asked.

“Of course,” grinned Ukaro. “From the tales you told me last night, that vision would fit well into what the Omungans hope not to see.”

“You are correct,” nodded HawkShadow, “but I fear for your safety. Your tiger might sprint well, but the Omungans may decide to give chase.”