Army of the Dead fl-8

by Richard S. Tuttle

  “I will speak to Goral,” declared HawkShadow as he rose suddenly.

  “That would be nice,” smiled SkyDancer. “Try to make him feel better. Her loss must be killing him.”

  HawkShadow nodded and walked over to the secluded spot where Goral had chosen to sit down. The giant looked up and saw the assassin approaching, but he quickly averted his eyes.

  “I apologize,” HawkShadow greeted Goral. “I should have known better than to ever question your devotion to StarWind.”

  “I understand your feelings well, brother,” Goral smiled tautly. “If I thought that I could have traded my life for hers, I would not have hesitated, but there was no chance of success. She was already deep inside the camp.”

  HawkShadow stood silently, and Goral fidgeted uncomfortably while he waited for HawkShadow to leave.

  “I mean no disrespect, HawkShadow,” Goral finally said, “but I prefer to mourn in private this night. I hope you understand.”

  “I will leave you in peace,” HawkShadow promised, “but I would request a favor before I go.”

  “What is it that you want?” asked Goral.

  “The black cloak,” HawkShadow replied.

  Goral’s eyes squinted suspiciously at HawkShadow, but he nodded and pointed to the cloak.

  “That is not the way to remember her, HawkShadow,” Goral declared. “I know that you two were close, but the enemy’s cloak is not a remembrance of StarWind. Take her sword instead.”

  HawkShadow smiled tautly and removed his own sheath and leaned it against the tree next to StarWind’s. He picked up the black cloak and turned to leave.

  “You can’t be serious?” gasped Goral. “There is no way that you can survive the infiltration. This is not some small party of bandits that we are talking about. This is not even an Omungan army of ten thousand men. You cannot hope to sneak into the Motangan encampment and get out again. It is suicide.”

  “Suicide it may be,” nodded HawkShadow, “but it is the only chance that StarWind has. Would you rather mourn her or me?”

  “I certainly do not want to mourn both of you,” countered Goral, “and that is exactly what I will end up doing if you carry through with this act of foolishness.”

  “And what foolishness is that?” asked SkyDancer as she walked towards the two men.

  Neither Goral nor HawkShadow responded. SkyDancer’s eyes fell on the black cloak in the assassin’s hands. Deep creases marred her forehead as she saw HawkShadow’s sword leaning against the tree.

  “I will not allow it,” SkyDancer said adamantly. “It is bad enough that our friends are dying daily, but I will not permit you to throw your life away.”

  “It is something that I must do,” HawkShadow said softly. “I have done it many times before.”

  “In an encampment larger than StarCity?” balked SkyDancer. “You are crazy. I will admit that you are the best at what we do, but no one is that good.”

  “I could use your guidance, Goral,” HawkShadow said, ignoring SkyDancer’s argument. “If you will not lead me to where StarWind entered the encampment, could you at least draw me a map?”

  “Tell him nothing,” SkyDancer said angrily to Goral. “Do not help him to commit suicide.”

  “Then I will find my own way,” HawkShadow said defiantly as he started to walk away.

  “Why are you doing this?” asked SkyDancer. “Do you really think that you are invincible? Do you not believe that the Motangans are capable of striking you down?”

  “No one is invincible,” sighed HawkShadow, as he turned to stare at SkyDancer. “What would you do if it was me that had been captured today?”

  “I would be mourning alongside Goral,” replied SkyDancer as she drew her sword. “Why can’t you do the same instead of trying to impress us all with your fantastic abilities, because we all know your true limitations. You are human like the rest of us, and you can be killed, and that is exactly what is going to happen tonight if you are allowed to leave this camp.”

  HawkShadow glanced at the sword in SkyDancer’s hands and shook his head. “Is that really what you would do if I was captured?” he asked softly. “You would sit under a tree and cry about it? Be honest with yourself. What would you really do?”

  A long awkward silence filled the air as the three Sakovans eyed one another. Finally, SkyDancer spoke.

  “I would try to rescue you,” she admitted, “but that is different. I love you, HawkShadow. I would rather die than live knowing that I might have had a chance to save you, but didn’t try.”

  “Then you know why I must go tonight,” HawkShadow said softly as he turned and walked away.

  SkyDancer’s eyes widened with understanding, and tears started to roll down her cheeks. Her hands opened, and her sword fell to the ground as she stared at HawkShadow’s retreating back.

  “I will stop him,” offered Goral as he rose. “He is not thinking clearly.”

  “No,” sobbed SkyDancer. “Let him go. In fact, go with him. Guide him to where you last saw StarWind.”

  “Are you sure?” asked the giant.

  “As sure as I can be about anything,” nodded SkyDancer. “If he truly loves her, there is nothing that we can do to stop him. Give him every chance to succeed that you can without endangering your own life.”

  Goral nodded solemnly and hurried after the Sakovan assassin.

  * * *

  The Situ lectain rode up the hill and halted alongside Lord Rybak. He sat quietly for a moment to catch his breath before speaking.

  “It won’t work any more,” reported the lectain. “There are too few of us left for the Motangans to be bothered chasing. They are turning westward.”

  “I see that,” frowned Lord Rybak as he gazed down at the battle raging below him. “Polema is talking to our troops at the central bridge now. If we have bought them enough time to get everyone across, we will continue to head south and retreat across the trench to safety.”

  The lectain nodded silently as his eyes drifted to the battle. The Situ cavalry charged into the mass of red uniforms and swiftly retreated, hoping to draw the Motangans after them, but the enemy defended themselves and then continued their westward march.

  “They need another hour,” Polema finally reported. “All of the infantry is safe across the trench, but the mages are still not completely across.”

  “Another hour?” gasped the lectain. “That is not possible. The men can’t hold that long, Lord Rybak. It is impossible. We are like acorns floating in a sea of red. You can’t ask them to try to keep this up for another hour.”

  Lord Rybak stood silently staring down at the battle as the cavalry ran another charge into the enemy’s flank. The southern Motangan flank halted slightly to repel the attack, but the rest of the enemy army continued onward as if unconcerned with the conflict. The minutes dragged on, as the crest of the hill remained shrouded in silence. Eventually, Lord Rybak tore his eyes from the destruction below and turned to face the lectain.

  “Gather the men, Lectain,” ordered Lord Rybak. “Break off the attack and gather them all in the clearing to our west. I will meet you there in a few minutes.”

  The lectain saluted and retreated down the hill. Polema looked curiously at the Situ lord.

  “What are you going to do?” she asked.

  “I am going to do what I must,” Lord Rybak replied vaguely. “Your services are no longer required east of the trench. I want you to ride to the central bridge as fast as you can. Get those mages across the trench in any manner possible.”

  “You are not coming with me?” questioned Polema.

  “I will travel with my troops,” replied Lord Rybak, “but you have important work to do. After you have gotten all of the mages to safety, I want you to report directly to Emperor Marak. Tell him of our experiences here. Explain the problem of timing when we have older women as mages. They simply cannot move fast enough for an effective withdrawal. This information will be critical when we need to evacuate the other zones.”


  “I shall do as you request,” frowned Polema, “but you did not answer my question.”

  “I did answer your question,” retorted Lord Rybak. “I will be riding with my men. Besides, my words were not a request. I gave you an order, and I expect you to carry it out. Get on your horse and ride swiftly.”

  Polema’s brow creased heavily, but she mounted her horse and rode swiftly down the hill. Lord Rybak turned to gaze once more at the flood of red uniforms streaming westward. His lips pressed tightly together as he mounted his own horse and rode down the hill. By the time he reached the large clearing, hundreds of mounted Khadoran soldiers sat waiting for him.

  Lord Rybak’s eyes scanned the multitude of clan colors before him. A smile came briefly to his lips as he admired the way the clans had united to fight the enemy, but the smile did not last. He saw that the men were tired and many of them were wounded. He had asked much of the men under his command, and they had not faltered in the face of overwhelming odds.

  “You men have done more for Khadora than anyone could have hoped for,” Lord Rybak said loudly. “I want to thank you for your devotion and courage, but this battle is not over yet. The northern and southern bridges over the trench have been destroyed. Only the central bridge remains. It remains because we have mages stuck on this side of the trench. The battle that we have been fighting has been to buy time for those mages to get to safety. We need to buy them another hour before our task is done.”

  Groans rippled through the clearing, as the men understood what was being asked of them. They were not groans of protest, but rather groans of weariness. Lord Rybak felt sympathy for their feelings, but he saw no other option.

  “Mages are a valuable weapon for Khadora in this war,” Lord Rybak continued, “but they cannot be effective standing in the middle of the enemy. They would never survive such an encounter. Their art requires distance between them and the enemy troops. We must have them on the other side of the trench. While I can demand that each of you follow me into battle to buy that extra hour that the mages need, I will not do so. You men have shed enough blood for one day. I will, however, implore each of you to ride with me to gain the needed time. Those who do not wish to stay and fight may leave immediately and cross the trench.”

  “Are you truly going to lead the charge?” shouted one of the soldiers. “Or will you be safe upon the hill watching us die?”

  “A fair question,” Lord Rybak nodded. “While my duties as commander of this force are best performed in a position that gives me full view of the enemy’s movements, there are far too few of us left to make observation worthwhile. I will not ask of you what I will not do myself. I will lead the charge.”

  The soldier nodded in satisfaction with the Situ lord’s answer. The clearing remained silent and motionless for several minutes before Lord Rybak spoke again.

  “I asked that those not willing to fight further leave us,” Lord Rybak said loudly. “The time to leave is now. Think quickly and make your decision. We do not have much time.”

  “We are waiting for our orders,” retorted one of the soldiers. “No Khadoran soldier will leave the field while his commander is still upon it. What will you have us do?”

  Lord Rybak nodded in satisfaction at the response of his men. He smiled briefly and addressed the troops.

  “There is a thick stand of forest between the Motangans and the bridge,” explained Lord Rybak. “I intend to ignite it into a blazing inferno.”

  “The Motangans will go around it,” a soldier pointed out.

  “Yes, they will,” nodded Lord Rybak, “and that is when we will attack them. We will divide into two groups, one north of the stand and one south of the stand. We will stand and fight for one hour and then turn and flee.”

  “If any of us are still alive to retreat,” remarked a soldier.

  “If any of us are still alive,” Lord Rybak echoed with a grim nod.

  Chapter 12

  Interrogation

  The air shimmered with heat from the burning forest as the vanguard of the Motangan army came into view. The Motangan soldiers walked warily, expecting an ambush at any moment. Their fears were fully justified.

  “Charge!” shouted Lord Rybak as he pointed his sword at the enemy army.

  Hundreds of hooves pounded the ground as the Khadoran cavalry charged into the vanguard of the enemy army. Arrows flew by the horsemen as the Motangans reacted rapidly, but their targets were moving swiftly. Lord Rybak had seen the Motangan armies from many hills since the invasion began, and he knew their numbers were vast, but his perspective leading the charge was entirely different. As he charged into the enemy ranks, his eyes saw nothing but an endless sea of red before him.

  Lord Rybak slashed left and right with his sword as he made contact with the Motangan soldiers. The first row of soldiers slashed back, and Lord Rybak felt stinging cuts to both of his legs, but he ignored the pain as he tried to ride deeper into the enemy army. His horse balked with nowhere to go. The Motangan ranks were so thick that many of the enemy soldiers could not raise their weapons to fight. The Motangan advance faltered as the northernmost columns turned southward to confront the ambush.

  Lord Rybak’s horse backed slowly as the Motangan army pressed forward. The Situ lord could feel the horse’s unsteady footing as it stepped over bodies on the ground. Lord Rybak delivered another killing blow to the neck of a Motangan solder as he felt his horse going down. Fear briefly swept through his mind as he threw himself off the dying horse. Lord Rybak landed on top of a Motangan soldier, knocking the man off his feet, but there was no room for him to fall to the ground. Lord Rybak swung his sword into the necks of the Motangan soldiers around him even as he felt the sharp blades penetrating his body. His body suddenly felt limp and refused to respond to his commands. His sword fell from his hands, and his vision turned to darkness. The sounds of battle slowly faded to nothing, and Lord Rybak issued his last prayer to Kaltara.

  * * *

  “Are you sure of this?” Goral asked HawkShadow as the assassin adjusted his black cloak.

  “I have never been surer of anything,” replied HawkShadow. “Stop asking me that.”

  “Sorry,” Goral said sheepishly. “As much as I want StarWind back, I do not want to lose another friend. Perhaps I should go with you?”

  “And what would we disguise you as?” asked HawkShadow. “A krul perhaps? Look, Goral, I understand your concern, and I appreciate it, but I am not throwing my life away. I am the best chance of escaping that StarWind has.”

  “I know that,” nodded the giant, “but even you must admit that this mission is impossible.”

  “Improbable,” corrected the assassin, “but not impossible. I will just have to be careful.”

  “You will not even get past the sentries,” frowned Goral. “They almost stopped StarWind, and in a way, I wish they had. She would have been close enough for me to go to her aid then.”

  “Stop punishing yourself, Goral,” HawkShadow replied soothingly. “You should have no guilt over this episode. StarWind is the best at what she does, but that does not make her infallible. She knew that as well as you and I do.”

  Goral remained silent as he gazed up at the dark night sky. HawkShadow finished his preparations and stared at the dimly lit encampment.

  “I will not be walking into the encampment if that eases your mind a bit,” HawkShadow offered softly.

  “What do you mean?” asked Goral.

  “I am going to sneak past the sentries,” explained HawkShadow. “You could be of help if you promise not to endanger yourself.”

  “I will do anything I can to help you,” offered Goral. “What do you want me to do?”

  “I could use a diversion when I get close to the sentries,” answered HawkShadow. “Nothing big and alarming. Just something to draw the curiosity of the sentries when I get close to them. I do not want the whole camp alerted.”

  “I understand,” nodded Goral. “How will I know when to act?”r />
  “Give me an hour,” replied the assassin. “Make the diversion slightly to the east of the sentries. I only need them to look away for a few moments.”

  “I will provide what you need,” assured the giant. “Good luck.”

  “Give me your prayers while you wait for me to return,” smiled HawkShadow. “I have found them more effective than wishes for luck.”

  Goral smiled broadly as the black-cloaked assassin faded into the darkness.

  HawkShadow moved stealthily down the hill and dropped to his stomach when he reached the bottom. The assassin knew the terrain of the Sakova better than any other person, as his main task had been to patrol this land for the past few years. He crawled silently until he found the small gully that he needed to make his approach to the enemy encampment.

  With painstakingly slow and deliberate movements, HawkShadow crawled along the gully towards the sentries. While his eyes could see nothing but the gully, HawkShadow’s ears were attuned to the noises of the forest. He listened intently as he crawled.

  Well within the hour he had requested, HawkShadow reached the area of the sentries. He listened carefully to the subtle sounds of the sentries and waited for Goral to make his diversion.

  HawkShadow smiled when he heard the distant howl, the noise sounding like a wounded wolf. Immediately the closest sentries started moving restlessly. HawkShadow waited patiently. Moments later the howls came again, but this time they were considerably closer.

  “What is that?” one of the sentries asked softly.

  “Some wounded animal,” shrugged the other sentry. “What are you worried about? Do you think the animal will attack us? It is probably afraid of humans. It will run as soon as it gets our scent.”

  Moments later the howl came again, much louder and obviously much closer.

  “Its nose must be clogged then,” one of the sentries declared sarcastically. “That thing is heading straight for us.”

  “Look!” the other sentry said excitedly. “Look at the size of it! It is almost as large as a krul.”