Richard Tuttle - Island of Darkness

“Is nothing secret from the Chula,” chuckled Marak. “My own people in Fardale did not learn of it until I arrived. How do you do it?”

“The Chula have ears everywhere,” smiled Ukaro. “I am pleased that you still find time to visit with your true people.”

“I had not planned to visit,” Marak admitted with a frown as he moved away from his father and sat on the floor. “I have heard some news that distresses me. I need your counsel.”

The three Chula sat on the floor facing Marak.

“What is this news?” asked Rykoma, the Head Shaman for the Kywara tribe.

“I have just heard that a magical disease is spreading through Omunga,” related Marak. “The Sakovans asked me to ship large quantities of food to them. I am already feeding the Fakarans, and there is a locust plague in northern Khadora. The thought occurred to me that our true enemy is trying to starve us before the invasion.”

“That would not surprise me,” replied Ukaro, the Head Shaman of the Zatong tribe. “A lack of food would destroy your army quicker than battle. Look what it did to the Jiadin.”

“You seem to have thought this out already,” commented Rykoma. “Why are you here to ask us about it?”

“No one knows the magic of plants and animals better than the Chula,” Marak stated. “I have seen what your magic has done for my watula fields in Fardale. If you can make my fields produce more than ever before, you should be able to do the same for all Khadoran fields.”

“There are not enough Chula shaman to treat every field in Khadora,” Tmundo shook his head.

“You would not have to do treat every field in Khadora,” argued Marak. “I have thousands of mages in my service. Teach them what they need to know. I will send them out to magically treat the fields.”

“That is not possible,” scowled Tmundo. “I have told you before, the Chula do not share their magic with flatlanders. It is out of the question.”

“How dare you refuse him?” interrupted Ukaro.

“He is your son, Ukaro, not mine,” Tmundo retorted adamantly. “Chula magic is not to be shared. This is our law.”

“I am well familiar with our law,” countered Ukaro. “I do not ask the question of you because he is my son. I ask the question because Marak is the Torak. He is the holy leader of our people. You cannot deny him. His word is above the law. How dare you defy Kaltara?”

Tmundo’s jaw dropped as he stared at Ukaro. Slowly he nodded and closed his eyes.

“How quickly I forget such a gift from Kaltara,” sighed Tmundo. “I was thrilled that he finally sent us the promised Torak, and yet I still treat Marak as a flatlander. I apologize.”

Marak’s brow creased with confusion. “Then you will teach my people?” he asked.

“We will do whatever you require of us,” Rykoma said softly. “We may counsel you against certain things, like giving our magic knowledge to the flatlanders, but you are sent by Kaltara to save us. We cannot refuse your commands.”

“Then I have more to ask of you,” the Torak said as he realized his position. “I want the fields of Fakara to be renewed. I have heard tales of a new rebirth in a remote area of the Fakaran wasteland. I believe your magic may restore that desolate country.”

“We will have to train a great number of your mages,” remarked Rykoma. “I would like to visit Fakara before I train your people. I must understand the magics that were used to salt that soil.”

“Good,” nodded Marak. “I also want someone with great knowledge to investigate this disease in Omunga. I must know what I am up against before it is too late to adjust for it.”

“Will your mages take instructions from us?” asked Rykoma.

“They will do what I tell them to do,” nodded Marak. “I have many a skilled a mage in Fardale. They will learn quickly. I will bring more in as you train them.”

“Then it shall be as you command,” decided Tmundo. “I truly hope that Kaltara is guiding you wisely. What is learned by the flatlanders cannot be unlearned.”

“I will go to Omunga,” declared Ukaro as he rose. “You, my son, must accompany me before you leave this day.”

“Where are we going?” asked Marak as he rose.

“Someplace that I should have taken you a long time ago,” smiled Ukaro. “It is time for you to learn what being the Torak truly means to our people. I will take you to the ancient temple of the Chula.”

“Changragar,” nodded Rykoma. “Yes, it is time for the Torak to know everything. He has shown that he is truly the gift from Kaltara that was promised to us. I will send someone to let Fardale know that he will be gone for a few days.”

The small sailboat glided to a stop on the sandy beach. Aakuta’s eyes scanned the beach before he stepped out of the boat. He immediately covered his head with his hood and stood staring at the distant top of a pyramid that was just visible above the trees. He was about to start walking towards the pyramid when a creature emerged from the woods. The creature stood over seven feet tall and appeared to be related to some form of ape. Its body was covered in long hair, and it slouched when it walked, the thumbs on its feet kicking up sand. Its eyes were inset above a protruding snout, and those eyes were concentrating on Aakuta. Aakuta felt the power increasing in his arm as he prepared to defend himself.

“Forbidden!” shouted the ape-like creature.

Aakuta cocked his head slightly as he heard the creature speak. “What are you?” asked the mage.

“Forbidden,” the creature repeated as its huge arm rose threateningly as it pointed towards Aakuta.

The creature advanced steadily towards the dark mage. Aakuta’s eyes narrowed as he scanned the beach one more time. Swiftly, his arm rose and pointed at the creature. Fire leaped from Aakuta’s fingers and ignited the hairy beast. The creature screamed as it realized that it was on fire. Huge hairy arms frantically brushed at the burning torso, but all that was accomplished was to set the hairy arms on fire. The creature let out an ear-splitting howl and raced towards the ocean. It dove into the rolling surf, but it did not move after the fire was out. The body floated as breaking waves sent it bobbing back towards the beach. Aakuta turned and swiftly moved into the stand of trees where he would be less noticeable.

As Aakuta made his way through the trees, he felt someone watching him. He turned often to gaze back towards the beach, but there was no one following him. Suddenly, a woman stepped onto the trail before him. She wore a black skirt that had a golden spider web woven into its design. A red blouse matched the woman’s hat except for the black cone that extended the hat upwards from which flowed a golden scarf to match her cape. The woman had a wide smile upon her lips.

“You are a nasty one, aren’t you?” she asked. “Why did you burn the krul?”

“Krul?” echoed Aakuta in confusion as he halted before the woman.

“The hairy beast on the beach,” the woman explained as her eyes narrowed. “You are not from here, are you?”

“It attacked me,” Aakuta scowled. “It is not my fault if it has a problem with fire.”

“Not your fault?” cackled the woman. “Now that is rich. The krul was merely telling you that you had left your boat in a forbidden area. No boats are allowed on that area of the beach. All visitors to the island must use the city docks. Just who are you?”

Aakuta’s eyes narrowed as he viewed the woman as an obstacle in his way. He felt the power rising in his arm.

“Don’t even think about it,” warned the woman. “I am not a krul, and I will not be dismissed so easily.”