Army of the Dead fl-8

by Richard S. Tuttle

  “I do not take them for fools, HawkShadow,” replied the spymaster. “Yes, they know that we are baiting them, but it doesn’t matter to them. They will keep coming after us until we are all dead. They do not need to hurry.”

  “But we are mounted,” frowned HawkShadow, “and they are not. We could run rings around them. How do they ever plan to catch us?”

  “I am sure that they have strategies worked out for that,” replied StarWind, “but I will not pretend to know what they are. I can make guesses though. They have many more men than we do. They can afford to spread out as they pursue us. They can also break off armies that will not be seen by us, because we are watching this big red horde out there. Sure, we have speed on them, but where are we going to go? They plan to conquer the entire landmass. There will be no hiding place for us.”

  “StarWind is right,” interjected General Didyk. “They can slowly follow us to the west coast, or the south coast, or the Kalatung Mountains, but they will eventually surround us and kill us. Even if we cross the mountains into Khadora, they will follow us. Worse, their armies in Khadora will probably be waiting for us.”

  “But we can continually attack them and run,” argued HawkShadow.

  “We can,” agreed General Didyk, “and I suspect that they expect us to do just that. They look forward to each and every encounter with us, whether it is initiated by them or us. That is the strategy for fighting when you have such vast numerical superiority. They can easily afford to trade us man for man. They will still have a huge army left when we are all dead.”

  “I have no intention of trading warriors with them,” scoffed HawkShadow. “At least not on an even basis. We will hit and run, but the results will not be to their liking.”

  “On that we agree,” grinned StarWind. “Come sit with me and go over this map, HawkShadow. You know the heartland better than anyone alive. Give me your ideas on where we should stage our actions.”

  General Didyk left the couple and strode across the makeshift campsite. He saw a small group of Sakovans sitting quietly and approached them.

  “I heard about the loss of your friend, SilverEdge,” the general said. “I wanted to let you know that I share your grief of his loss. Not too long ago, we were enemies, but I have grown to admire you people. I heard about your heroic stand in Alamar to make sure that the mages and General Manitow got out safely. You have earned the respect of me and my men.”

  “Thank you, General,” nodded Goral as Didyk walked away.

  “One would think that defeating him in war would have already earned his respect,” snapped SkyDancer.

  “That is uncalled for,” chided DarkBlade. “While he may not have known SilverEdge personally, I think his sorrow was genuine.”

  “Many Imperial Guards also died in Alamar,” added StormSong. “Have you told their friends how sorry you are for their loss?”

  “I didn’t ask for his sorrow,” spat SkyDancer as she rose and stormed off.

  “What is wrong with her?” frowned StormSong. “You would think that the Omungans are still our enemies by her attitude.”

  “She fears losing those who are close to her,” shrugged DarkBlade.

  “Don’t we all?” asked StormSong. “We all loved SilverEdge. Why is her burden so much greater than ours?”

  “It is more than the loss of SilverEdge that bothers her,” Goral said softly. “She mourns for the future losses as well as the past.”

  StormSong frowned at Goral and shook her head. “Now I know why you don’t talk much, Goral,” she said. “When you do open your mouth, nothing understandable comes out.”

  Goral shrugged but did not reply. StormSong sighed with exasperation and strode off towards the campfire. DarkBlade sat next to Goral and began to sharpen his sword.

  “What did you mean by that, Goral?” he asked. “What exactly does SkyDancer fear?”

  “SkyDancer is in love,” Goral said softly. “SilverEdge’s death showed her just how fragile life is these days. She fears losing the object of her love to this war. That makes her hate this war very much.”

  “She thinks that HawkShadow is going to die?” questioned DarkBlade.

  “What do I know?” replied the giant. “You should ask SkyDancer about her feelings.”

  “I know you well enough, Goral,” chuckled DarkBlade. “I don’t buy the stupid giant routine at all. Others may think that you are slow, and you may enjoy them thinking that, but I know better. Does she think that HawkShadow is going to die?”

  “She fears losing HawkShadow,” nodded Goral, “whether it is through death or some other means does not make much of a difference to her. The end result is the same.”

  “We all may die before this over,” shrugged DarkBlade. “If she truly feels that strongly about HawkShadow, she should be spending every single moment with him while they are both alive.”

  “She would not argue that point with you,” replied Goral. “Nor would I. When they are together is the only time that she smiles.”

  “Where is HawkShadow?” asked DarkBlade. “I know I saw him earlier today.”

  Goral nodded towards the spot where the assassin sat reading the map with StarWind. DarkBlade saw the couple sitting and frowned. Without a word to Goral, DarkBlade turned and strode over to HawkShadow.

  “Tayo, HawkShadow,” said DarkBlade. “I think SkyDancer was looking for you.”

  “Tayo, DarkBlade,” HawkShadow replied, tearing his eyes away from the map only for a second before returning to it. “Could you tell her where I am?”

  “I think she knows where you are,” replied DarkBlade.

  HawkShadow frowned in confusion, but StarWind nodded knowingly.

  “I think that I have enough to dwell on, HawkShadow” smiled StarWind as she rose and started folding up the map. “Why don’t you go rest and enjoy our short stop while you can.”

  “I would rather finish our discussion,” protested HawkShadow.

  “Another time,” StarWind said definitively as she turned and walked away.

  HawkShadow turned and frowned at DarkBlade. “Did I say something wrong to her?” he asked. “Her leaving was rather abrupt.”

  “No,” DarkBlade sighed as he shook his head. “You said nothing wrong. Why don’t you go and find SkyDancer. She is feeling pretty low right now. I think you could cheer her up.”

  “I imagine that she is dwelling on SilverEdge’s death,” frowned HawkShadow. “She liked him a great deal. His death must hurt her quite a bit.”

  “Something like that,” replied DarkBlade. “Losing you would hurt her a lot more. Go and spend some time with her.”

  HawkShadow nodded and strode off. A feeling of satisfaction filled DarkBlade as he watched the assassin walk away.

  “You should not have done that,” came a voice from behind DarkBlade.

  DarkBlade whirled to see MistyTrail standing behind him. “Why not?” he asked. “She needs him right now. She loves him.”

  “You do not understand HawkShadow as I do,” frowned MistyTrail. “You may just have endangered his life.”

  “What?” balked DarkBlade. “What a nonsensical thing to say. By telling him that SkyDancer loves him? Surely, he must already know that?”

  “He knows that she loves him,” nodded MistyTrail. “She has said so to him, but he does not feel the same towards her. He likes her a great deal, but his heart belongs to another.”

  “Who?” asked DarkBlade.

  “That does not matter,” replied MistyTrail. “Like SkyDancer, HawkShadow’s love is not returned by the woman he loves.”

  “Then he should tell SkyDancer the truth and let her deal with it,” retorted DarkBlade.

  “She is incapable of dealing with it,” countered MistyTrail. “That is why HawkShadow says nothing. He will not lie to her, yet he will not destroy her with the truth either.”

  “Well,” shrugged DarkBlade, “that is his prerogative, but I don’t see how that endangers his life.”

  “No,” repli
ed MistyTrail, “the mention of love does not endanger him, but your insistence that she needs him does. It tells HawkShadow that SkyDancer has become unstable. He can handle her love of him, but he also is responsible for sending her on missions. Now he must second-guess every assignment that he gives her. Few know HawkShadow as I do. I spent years with him as my tutor. I know him well.”

  “Which means what?” asked DarkBlade.

  “Which means that HawkShadow will try to do her work as well as his own to protect her,” answered MistyTrail. “He could not bear the responsibility of her death if he sent her on a mission that she was incapable of handling, and in her state of mind, that would be any mission that he gave her.”

  “Then he should talk to Lyra,” frowned DarkBlade. “Get her removed from working under him. You could take her place. You just said that he tutored you for years.”

  “My time in the Sakova is at an end,” MistyTrail said. “I must return to Elvangar. In fact, I am hoping to meet Myka when she returns with the Star of Sakova. She could take me home.”

  “Then I will speak to Lyra,” decided DarkBlade. “I did not mean to cause trouble. I was only trying to help.”

  “I understand,” MistyTrail smiled tautly. “Talk to Lyra about it. I am sure she will understand.”

  Chapter 8

  Hand of Kaltara

  Premer Cardijja marched down the gangplank and watched as thousands upon thousands of Motangan soldiers marched through the newly built city of Meliban. The first troops to be offloaded were ordered to march completely through the city. Once outside the walls, they began setting up camp. The premer walked to the city center to observe the troop movements. As generals unloaded their armies, they made their way to the premer for instructions. General Luggar arrived in a huff.

  “I caught some men preparing to burn buildings,” the general scowled. “Is that an order that you gave?”

  “Absolutely not,” frowned the premer. “There is no reason to destroy this city. It will make an excellent port for receiving supplies. Have those soldiers executed in front of the men still disembarking. Make sure that the message is spread that I will not tolerate unnecessary destruction. We were fortunate to have landed unopposed. This city in now Motangan.”

  “What about use of the buildings?” asked General Luggar. “May we take them over for our own use?”

  “Yes,” nodded the premer. “I will assign sectors to the generals. The generals can utilize the buildings as they see fit. The administration building down the street will be reserved for me and my staff.”

  “You sound as if we are going to be here for a while,” commented the general. “What is our plan of attack?”

  “The first step is to get situated here,” answered Premer Cardijja. “We will send out scouts from the mounted corte to search for clues as to the whereabouts of the enemy. Then we will kill the Fakarans.”

  “You make it sound so simple,” replied the general. “What about Vandegar and Angragar?”

  “Those problems belong to Premer Tzargo,” shrugged Cardijja. “It is my understanding that Tzargo is in charge of securing Vandegar for the Emperor. Once Vand is installed in the temple, the search for Angragar will begin in earnest. Of course,” he added, “it would be quite an accomplishment if we can determine the location of Angragar before Tzargo. I might even be promoted to First Premer. Keep that in mind when we engage the Fakarans. Any captives must be interrogated painstakingly.”

  “Tzargo only has fifty thousand men,” frowned General Luggar. “Can he hold Vandegar with that small an army?”

  “He has more mages than he knows what to do with,” shrugged Cardijja. “What he lacks in manpower, he makes up for with magic.”

  “When does he arrive?” asked the general.

  “After we have secured Meliban and located the enemy,” answered the premer. “While he can defend Vandegar, he doesn’t want to be attacked on the way there.”

  “So he is waiting on us,” frowned the general. “I don’t care to have that kind of attention on me. I prefer a slow and steady approach.”

  “That is why I brought a corte of cavalry with me,” replied the premer. “Fakara is a large wasteland and I don’t want to waste time locating the Fakarans. I have also arranged to have more horses shipped if we need them, but I don’t think that will be necessary just yet. Our trackers are excellent. We will find the Fakarans in a short time.”

  “Or they will find us,” warned the general.

  “Let them come,” smiled the premer. “That would make this much easier. Our archers are the finest in Motanga. Why do you think I chose Fakara? The land is mostly flat. You can see forever on these plains. Let the savages charge us. They will fall to our archers before they ever reach us.”

  * * *

  General Chen watched as Premer Shamal shouted angrily at the junior officer. The general knew that the premer rarely lost his temper. Carefully placing his feet to avoid stumbling while the ship rocked in the heavy swells, General Chen made his way to the rail alongside the premer.

  “Still no word from Clarvoy?” asked the general.

  “No,” scowled the premer, “and I am getting tired of waiting. Soldiers are not meant to sit on unmoving ships waiting for the war to begin. If he was not sure about the defenses of Khadora, he should have accepted our waiting in Sudamar instead of the middle of the ocean. Half of the men are seasick with the foul waves rocking these ships. I am quite tempted to attack without his information.”

  “That could be costly,” warned the general. “Khadora is the best defended of our enemies. It is important to know what we are up against.”

  “Khadora will be no easy task,” agreed Premer Shamal, “which is why I wanted it. I am the only premer qualified to handle it, as I have studied the Khadorans at length. Their armies are experienced fighters unlike the Omungans and Fakarans, but that is why we have a hundred thousand more men than the others. As much as the information about defenses would help us, getting my men off these ships will also help us. We are in greater danger out here than we will be in Raven’s Point.”

  “Perhaps we will hear from Clarvoy today,” General Chen said hopefully.

  “We had better,” scowled the premer. “If we do not hear from him today, I am giving the order to attack regardless. We can take Raven’s Point and hold there until Clarvoy gathers the information that we need.”

  “Emperor Vand will not be happy with such a decision,” frowned General Chen.

  “The Emperor has given me control over this force,” retorted Premer Shamal. “The decision is mine to make. What you generals are unaware of,” he continued softly, “is that Doralin’s fleet was attacked at sea. His losses were not insignificant. While I am not afraid of such a tactic coming from the Khadorans, we are still at risk upon the sea. Look around you, Chen. There are four hundred ships out here. Even a storm could cause great damage to our armies. We cannot afford to stay here much longer. One more day and I will give the order to proceed.”

  “I had not heard about Doralin’s misfortune,” frowned General Chen. “How did it happen, and why do you think the Khadorans would not try the same thing?”

  “The Sakovans attacked his fleet with hundreds of small ships,” answered the premer. “The small boats had some type of deadly harpoons that pierced the hulls of Doralin’s ships. Each ship that went down cost a thousand men. As for that happening to us, Khadora really has only one port on this coast, and that is Raven’s Point. Not only are there not a hundred ships in Raven’s Point, there are none with weapons attached to them. Besides, I have instructed the ship captains to sink any vessel approaching the fleet. Doralin’s people thought they were fishing boats and let them get too close.”

  “You were wise to hide this from the men,” replied General Chen. “While our armies have the courage to face death in battle, sitting here exposed would have terrified them if they had known what had happened to Doralin. Your decision to go ahead with the attack makes perfect sense n
ow.”

  “Do not spread word of this until we make landfall, Chen,” warned the premer. “I have only shared this with you because I value your advice. You are the finest general in the Motangan army.”

  * * *

  The Khadoran bursar was finely attired in silk garments of the white and black colors of the Devon clan. He perused the merchandise only at the most expensive stalls in the marketplace of Khadoratung, and he did so at a leisurely pace. So it was of no surprise that the bursar would end up at the stall of an exclusive merchant situated in the middle of the last row. The merchant, Wendal, immediately sized up the bursar and watched with interest as the man approached.

  “Good day to you,” greeted Wendal. “Looking for something in particular?”

  “As a matter of fact I am,” nodded the bursar as he placed a large pouch on the table.

  The jingle of gold was unmistakable to the merchant as the pouch hit the table. Wendal smiled broadly.

  “What do you require?” Wendal asked.

  “I am interest in BaGrec,” smiled he bursar.

  “The finest artisan to have ever lived,” nodded Wendal. “His pieces are in great demand since he died. What piece are you looking for?”

  “The three-legged horse sculpture,” smiled the bursar.

  The merchant’s eyes immediately shifted left and right as he scanned the walkways around his stall. He deftly reached out and snared the pouch of gold. He hefted it as if to measure its worth before tucking it under his tunic.

  “What would you like to know?” Wendal asked softly.

  “Anything and everything about the coming invasion,” declared the bursar. “I am particularly curious about the recent buildings going up around the city.”

  “It seems that Sakovan citizens are being relocated here,” replied Wendal. “Many have already arrived, but I understand that thousands are coming in the near future. Whole Sakovan cities are being emptied of the women and children.”