Richard Tuttle - Island of Darkness

“Enough,” Eltor said with authority. “I do not wish to hear more. This talk will only demoralize us further. Our time is better spent planning what is to come.”

“I agree,” added Mistake. “There will be time later to cleanse Caldal of the demons that haunt him. We must continue to heal him so he is strong for the journey home.”

Caldal turned and stared into Eltor’s eyes. “I am never going back there,” he said with determination. “Take the girls and flee if you wish, but leave me with a knife. I would rather die than return to the Chamber of Horrors.”

“I doubt that we can flee this island,” Eltor responded. “While the garlic did put the kruls off our scent, the mountains are crawling with soldiers now. We dare not show our faces outside this cave.”

“They will not search forever,” interjected Mistake. “We will wait them out until it is safe to travel. We have plenty of food here. Sooner or later they will give up the search.”

“Do not be so sure of that,” warned Eltor. “Every search that I have heard of ended with a capture or death. These people do not give up.”

“Neither do we,” MistyTrail said adamantly. “We will leave this island, and we will all leave together.”

“And where will you get a boat?” retorted Eltor. “Do not rule our lives with impossible dreams. Trying to escape is what got Caldal sent to Chamber of Horrors in the first place. Do not tease us with the unobtainable hope of our homeland.”

“Nothing is impossible,” countered Mistake. “We will get the boat from the same place that we stole the uniforms.”

“Where did you get the uniforms?” Eltor asked with curiosity.

“There is a lone house along the beach,” explained MistyTrail. “It is just past the edge of the jungle. I think it is a lookout for stray vessels. They have a boat that is larger than the one Mistake and I lost off the coast.”

“There are only four guards stationed there,” added Mistake. “I am sure that we can surprise them.”

“But what about the sails?” Caldal asked as he sat up with interest. “Surely, the stolen ship will be spotted by other lookouts? They will pursue us with a vengeance.”

“I haven’t worked that out yet,” admitted Mistake. “If it were not for the reefs offshore, I would suggest leaving at night. That would cover us until we were far from the island, but those reefs would destroy our boat before we got started.”

“We shall ask Kaltara for help,” shrugged MistyTrail. “He has not let us down yet.”

“I still find it strange every time you mention the elven god,” commented Eltor.

“Why is that strange?” asked Caldal. “Kaltara watches over every elf.”

“These female elves are not from Elvangar,” Eltor informed his friend. “In fact, they did not even know that they were elves. They come from a strange and distant land. Mistake claims to have been to Angragar.”

“Angragar?” echoed Caldal. “That is impossible. The ancient human city is hidden from all eyes.”

“All eyes except the Qubari,” retorted Mistake. “At least that was true until just recently, but now it is the Time of Calling. The Astor has risen, and I am his close friend.”

“Time of Calling?” echoed Caldal. “The Astor? These words gnaw at my memories, but I cannot place them.”

“They do not matter now,” interrupted Eltor. “If our only problem is getting past the reefs, Caldal and I can accomplish that.”

“How?” asked Mistake.

“We have done it before in strange waters,” offered Eltor. “One of us will swim the reef and find a passage. The other will guide the boat with a short sail.”

“If need be,” interjected Caldal who was now sitting erect, “we can walk the ship across the reef. It can be done.”

“So you are not going to stay in this cave and commit suicide?” grinned Mistake.

Caldal frowned and his eyes widened as he stared in the direction of Mistake’s voice. Finally he started laughing softly.

“It was I who talked Eltor into escaping the last time,” he admitted. “I guess it is in my blood to return to my home. I want very much to put this island behind me.”

“Hold your excitement for now,” warned Eltor. “While this plan has promise, we must remain prepared for failure. We were confident the last time. Remember?”

“Let there be no talk of failure,” interjected Mistake. “We all have great reasons to escape this land. We will follow our plan or die trying. None of us will be captured alive. Are we agreed on this?”

“Agreed,” Caldal said promptly as he reached out and grasped Mistake’s hand.

Eltor and MistyTrail repeated the oath and clasped hands with the others.

* * *

The Star of Sakova walked through the gates of Gatong. She had visited the city years ago as a young girl, but her memory of it was dim. The more recent memories of her escape from the assassins at the Academy of Magic sent a shudder through her. She had avoided entering the city on that trip when Antello had given Syman a signal not to enter. The memories sent a chill up her spine. It seemed so long ago, and yet it wasn’t. She felt a sudden urge to travel further north to visit the academy that had been her home. She pushed the thoughts from her mind and moved away from the gate before the Imperial Guards thought to question her.

Lyra walked to the marketplace while letting her mind wander over how she should proceed. Her eyes stared vacantly at the stalls as she walked slowly by, but she did not see anything. She wondered whether she should approach the mayor or the resident general. The mayor was technically the decision maker in most Omungan cities, but it was the general who actually controlled the troops. Without the support of the general, the mayor was nothing more than a figurehead, yet most generals would be loath to exert their power without the backing of the mayor. It was a circular question, and Lyra sighed in frustration.

“Are you alright?” asked a local woman.

Lyra started and turned to look at the woman. The woman appeared to be around her mother’s age and Lyra’s mind instant flashed to an image of Rhodella dying on the floor of the Academy of Magic. A tear instantly formed in the corner of her, and the woman put her arm comfortingly around Lyra.

“What troubles you, young one?” asked the woman. “If it is lack of food, I can spare what little I have. Come to my home.”

Lyra suddenly saw the stalls around her. While merchandise was abundant, the food stalls were bare. Her eyes roved over the passing citizens, and she saw the signs of famine in each and every one of them. She started to cry.

“Come, come, now,” urged the woman as she started guiding Lyra away from the marketplace. “I’ll get you a hot bowl of stew. It’s nothing fancy mind you, mostly scraps of whatever I could gather, but it will ease those hunger pains. There is no need to cry.”

Lyra was speechless as the woman guided her to a modest home. She found her mind replaying the images of the starving people in Duran rather than focusing on what she needed to do in Gatong. Before she knew it, the woman had seated her at a table and placed a bowl of stew before her.

“Eat now,” urged the woman. “Things will be better soon. You just need your strength. Where are you from?”

“I cannot eat this,” Lyra said while shaking her head. She pushed the bowl towards the woman. “I cannot take your food. I should be giving you food, not eating yours.”

Lyra started crying again and the woman moved around the table and placed her arm on Lyra’s shoulder.

“It’s alright,” the woman said soothingly. “I already ate today.”

“And what about tomorrow?” sobbed Lyra. “What will you eat when I have finished off your stew?”