Aakuta: the Dark Mage (45 page)

“Well I am certainly glad that you were,” smiled Lord Marak. “You saved my life.”

“Perhaps,” shrugged Fisher. “Your Qubari armor saved you the last time. I suspect it might have again.”

“I would prefer not to test your theory,” sighed Lord Marak.

“Mirakotto will try twice as hard to kill you now,” warned Fisher. “You know that, don’t you?”

“I suppose that he will,” nodded Lord Marak. “At least he won’t have Andretti around to do it.”

“People like Andretti are easy to come by,” frowned Fisher. “Don’t let your guard down because Andretti is dead. Mirakotto will want you dead, and he seems to get what he wants.”

Lord Marak reentered the Imperial Palace after Fisher had walked away. He did not bother to return to the Torak quarters, but instead walked straight to the Assembly Chamber. He sat at his desk in the rear of the room and wove an air tunnel to take his mind off of the events of the morning. He was amazed to hear lords talking about the capture and death of Andretti. There was no mention of the assassin being a member of the Argetta clan, but everyone seemed to be aware that the assassin of Emperor Bagora had been caught. Several also spoke of the recent attack on Lord Marak.

“I heard that you captured the assassin this morning,” greeted Lord Shamino as he sat at the next desk. “Your luck seems to be blessed by the gods.”

“There is only one god,” Lord Marak replied without taking his attention away from the air tunnel, “and I do not believe in luck. How has word of this spread so quickly?”

“I imagine that anything this big is news to everyone,” shrugged the Sorgan lord. “There is a rumor that the assassin was an Imperial soldier. Is that true?”

“He wore the uniform of one,” confirmed Lord Marak, “but it takes more than a uniform to make someone a true Imperial soldier. Those men have dedicated their lives to Khadora and put their clans behind them. I hope the truth about Andretti will not sully their reputation.”

The horns sounded and the lords hurried to their seats. Emperor Mirakotto was ushered onto the stage by a score of Imperial soldiers.

“Lords of Khadora,” Emperor Mirakotto began, “thank you for assembling this day to elect a new member to the Lords’ Council. As you already know, this vacancy was necessitated by my rise to Emperor upon Bagora’s death. May it be the last time that you are called together for a while. I know the journey is upsetting for the business of your estates. I will turn this meeting over to Lord Patel who will be leading this session of the Assembly of Lords.”

“No mention of the assassin,” whispered Lord Shamino.

“I noticed that,” Lord Marak remarked as he saw the Emperor glaring at him from the throne on the stage. “I wonder if he is afraid of what I might have found out from Andretti.”

“What?” asked Lord Shamino.

Lord Marak ignored the question as Lord Patel stepped to the center of the stage.

“The only purpose of this meeting of the Assembly of Lords,” Lord Patel began, “is to elect a new member to the Lords’ Council. At this time, I will accept nominations from the assembly.”

Lord Kiamesh rose and was recognized.

“Lords of Khadora,” Lord Kiamesh said loudly, “the loss of Emperor Bagora will be felt in every corner of Khadora. He was a wonderful leader, a magnanimous lord, and a loving father. I can think of no better tribute to such a great patriot of Khadora than to nominate his son, Lord Chenowith of the Walkan clan, to the position of a member of the Lords’ Council. It is my hope that Lord Chenowith will one day follow in his father’s footsteps and become Emperor of Khadora.”

The room erupted in a flow of cheers. The shouts of backing for Lord Chenowith were so great that Emperor Mirakotto broke his eye contact with Lord Marak to gaze about the room. Lord Marak could almost feel the disgust that the Emperor felt towards the other lords’ adulation of Lord Chenowith. He knew that Mirakotto was envious of the attention that was paid to others.

Lord Patel waited until the room quieted before he asked for other nominations. There were none. He moved quickly to call for a vote without objections. Being in the rear of the room, Lord Marak was among the last to vote. Many lords had already cast their vote and left the room after doing so. Lord Marak rose after voting and walked into the grand foyer outside the Assembly Chamber. Groups of lords were scattered all over the wide-open area.

As Lord Marak walked out of the room, several of his lords immediately converged on him. Lord Rybak of the Situ, Lord Sevrin of the Ragatha, Lord Burdine of the Litari, and Lord Shamino of the Sorgan all gathered around him.

“Is it true, Lord Marak?” asked Lord Rybak. “Did you capture the assassin?”

“I had help,” admitted Lord Marak, “but there is no doubt that he is the man who killed Bagora.”

“They said you shoved a knife into his throat,” commented Lord Sevrin.

“Whoever is spreading these tales was not there to see it,” responded Lord Marak. “Do not encourage such tales. Who captured him and how it was done is not important. What is important is that Andretti will no longer pose a danger to the good people of Khadora.”

“I also heard that the Lords’ Council turned down your request for troops,” interjected Lord Burdine. “What does this mean for our troops on the eastern frontier?”

“It certainly will make their job much harder,” frowned Lord Marak, “if not impossible. If all of the Jiadin converge together, our forces are doomed.”

“Perhaps we should recall  them?” suggested Lord Shamino.

“To what end?” asked Lord Marak. “If we abandon the Balomar estate, who will ever stand with us in the future? It might be better to gather all of our forces together and send them to the eastern frontier.”

“Do you mean to strip away the defenses of our own estates?” asked Lord Sevrin. “That would be suicide. There are far too many clans that would eagerly take advantage of us. You must not do that, Lord Marak.”

Lord Marak felt the hair rising on the back of his neck. He turned swiftly, but casually and gazed at a group of four lords not twenty paces away. The four lords were staring at him. Lord Marak left his group and strode towards the four lords.

“So you decided to come after all, Lord Yungis,” opened Lord Marak.

“Why not?” smirked the Glamaraldi lord. “For all your talk about the Lords’ Council coming down against me, I understand that they refused your request for more troops.”

“That leaves you rather alone, Lord Marak,” said Lord Damirath of the Pikata clan.

Lord Marak turned to face Lord Damirath and felt a chill race down his spine. The man’s eyes were black and limitless.

“Whatever you are after in Khadora, Lord Damirath,” declared Lord Marak, “you will not achieve it. I advise you to return to wherever it is you came from.”

Lord Marak was not sure where his words had come from, but they felt natural, unlike Lord Damirath. The Torak lord wished he had the Sword of Torak with him. He felt certain that its hilt would warm his hand as he stood before Lord Damirath.

“What are you talking about?” blustered Lord Samert of the Vessi clan. “Lord Damirath is the lord of the Pikata. They are an old and established Khadoran clan, unlike the Torak. How dare you suggest he leave this country of ours?”

“Perhaps it is you, Lord Marak, who does not belong in Khadora,” added Lord Falawert of the Lejune clan.

Lord Marak locked eyes with Lord Damirath as he spoke, “The Jiadin failed to take control in Fakara. They will also fail in Khadora. It does not matter what uniforms you put on the Jiadin, they will always be known for what they are. If Zygor and Brakas have led you to believe otherwise, then the truth is going to wound you fatally.”

Lord Marak saw the spark of recognition in Lord Damirath’s eyes at the mention of Brakas and Zygor. He was not sure how those two fit in, but he was sure that eliminating them would end the Jiadin invasion.

“Your words mean little, Lord Marak,” snarled Lord Yungis. “I was generous with Lord Oktar when I allowed him two days to leave. I now extend the same courtesy to you and the foolish clans that follow your lead. Remove your men from the Balamor estate or die. There will not be another warning.”

“You should listen and obey, Torak,” smirked Lord Damirath. “You cannot win. Surely, you recognize that now. The Time of Cleansing is soon upon us. Run, Torak, run.”

Being called Torak set Marak’s nerves on edge. Mention of the Time of Cleansing convinced Lord Marak that he was not dealing with a Khadoran lord. Again he gazed into the depthless eyes of Lord Damirath. What was it that Mistake had said? Zygor and Brakas arrived, but Zygor had not been seen leaving. That was it. Was it possible for a mage to take another’s body? He promised himself that he would contact the Chula as soon as could to get an answer to that question. Or should he just bluff and see what happened?

“I am surprised that you would welcome the Time of Cleansing, Zygor,” smiled Lord Marak. “That is the time of your master’s true death.”

The three Khadoran lords looked on in confusion as Lord Damirath stepped back and snarled at Lord Marak.

“That will never happen, Torak,” spat Lord Damirath. “Not in a thousand years. I think you should ignore the warning of Lord Yungis. I personally look forward to seeing you die at Balomar.”

Lord Damirath spun and strode away from the confrontation. The other three hosts to the Jiadin quickly followed after a few strange looks at Lord Marak.

Lord Marak was shaken by the encounter with Zygor. If his opponents actually had the capability of taking over the body of another person, what other great powers could they possibly have? Lord Marak suddenly realized how woefully unprepared Khadora was for the invasion that was to come. Just uniting the clans of Khadora would not be enough to prepare for the evil onslaught. Lord Marak shook his head and headed for the Lords’ Council dining room for the midday meal.

When he arrived, Lord Marak’s mind was still dwelling upon the encounter with Zygor. He barely noticed the other lords assembled for the meal.

“So Lord Marak has single-handedly captured the assassin of the Imperial Palace,” taunted Lord Garic. “Was he about to betray you, Lord Marak?”

Lord Marak spun and glared at Lord Garic. “I think your master is calling you, Garic. You had better leave immediately.”

Lord Garic was taken aback by Lord Marak’s abrupt challenge. He looked around at the other lords and saw no humor in their faces. He rose unsteadily and left the room. When he was gone, Lord Marak shook his head and sighed.

“I apologize to all of you for that outburst,” he said. “The events of the day are bearing down on me. Please forgive me.”

“For scaring Garic out of the room?” chuckled Lord Kiamesh. “No apologies are necessary, Lord Marak. Sit and ease your troubles.”

Lord Marak nodded gratefully at Lord Kiamesh and then noticed that Lord Chenowith was present.

“Lord Chenowith,” smiled Lord Marak, “congratulations on your election. I also want to offer my condolences in regards to your father. Emperor Bagora was a true patriot. He will be sorely missed.”

“Thank you, Lord Marak,” Lord Chenowith replied without emotion. “I do have a question about Andretti if you would not mind answering it.”

“There is not much that I can say about it,” shrugged Lord Marak.

“We shall see,” continued Lord Chenowith. “I cannot figure out why an Imperial soldier would want to kill an Emperor. Did Andretti give you any idea of why he killed my father?”

Lord Marak stared at the table in front of him for several moments. He sighed heavily and looked up at Lord Chenowith.

“He was an assassin,” declared Lord Marak. “He did what assassins do.”

“You mean he was just following orders?” questioned Lord Chenowith.

“Yes,” Lord Marak nodded.

“And do you know who was giving him orders?” Lord Chenowith persisted.

“I do,” nodded Lord Marak, “but I prefer not to broach the subject. There is already too much disharmony among us. Your loss is great Lord Chenowith, but losing you as well would be a grievous loss for Khadora. I ask you not to pursue the matter.”

“Not to pursue the matter?” Lord Chenowith echoed as his voice rose. “Andretti killed my father, Lord Marak. If you know who ordered that assassination, I demand to know.”

“And what will you do with the information, Lord Chenowith?” questioned Lord Marak. “Will you press the authorities to arrest the man based upon my word alone? What if that man is more respected than me? What will you do then? I do not mean to be harsh, Lord Chenowith. If I saw a way that you could avenge your father’s death, I would gladly tell you what I know, but I will not burden you with information that will destroy you.”

“Mirakotto,” Lord Kiamesh swore under his breath. “I thought it had to be him, but you have just confirmed it, Lord Marak. There is no other man who could stand up to the Lords’ Council if we were united, and united we would be in this matter. Mercy, what are we to do?”

“We can do nothing,” Lord Quilo replied. “Lord Marak is right in not revealing what he knows. Any action we took would be as serious a crime against Khadora as that perpetrated by Andretti. Surely you can see that, Lord Chenowith?”

“Two wrongs do not make a right,” nodded Lord Chenowith. “Still, a fire burns in my belly as I think of the treachery that has been committed here. Tell me, Lord Marak, what would you do if you were in my position?”

Lord Marak sat for a while before answering. He tried to put himself in Lord Chenowith’s place.

“My first reaction would be as yours is,” answered Lord Marak. “I would demand swift revenge, regardless of the consequences to myself, but I never act on emotions alone. There are things going on today that are far more important than revenge for a treacherous act. Khadora is heading into a storm of a magnitude like we have never seen. Whatever I can do to help Khadora prepare to meet this evil is far more important than my life. It is more important than the lives of all of my loved ones. My revenge would tear this country apart at the very time that I need to help bring it together. I could not allow myself to harm Khadora that way for my own selfish goals.”