Army of the Dead fl-8

by Richard S. Tuttle

  “Good point,” nodded Xavo. “I hope the elves don’t run out of arrows before they reach the city. What are we to do with the third ten thousand men? They will never believe the need to abandon the city.”

  “I don’t know,” admitted Lady Mystic. “I cannot think of anything that would make the last army leave the city. Perhaps the best that we can do is to make them believe that the attack is not coming after all.”

  Xavo brightened as he smiled at Lady Mystic with appreciation. “That might work,” he smiled. “We can tell the last general that the other two armies have engaged the elves in the south and defeated them.”

  * * *

  The light of dawn increased steadily as Xavo and Lady Mystic stood on the beach near the jungle trail. Their eyes scanned the horizon until they found the ship of mages.

  “There it is,” pointed Lady Mystic. “It is farther out than I had expected.”

  “It must be far enough offshore to prevent any of the mages from reaching land,” replied Xavo. “Are you worried about the range?”

  “Not at all,” balked Lady Mystic. “If I can see it, I can hit it. What do you want me to do?”

  “Waves would be nice,” smiled Xavo. “Can you create havoc with the sea?”

  “I could,” frowned Lady Mystic, “but it would take considerable power and a great deal of time. How would waves help?”

  “I plan to puncture the hull with light blades,” answered Xavo, “but the holes will have to be above the waterline. The waves will cause the ship to sink.”

  “While I like your light blade spell,” Lady Mystic shook her head, “it is best used on large groups of people. Why not merely cause the ship to explode?”

  Xavo looked at Vand’s daughter questioningly. “The wood in the ship must be old,” he frowned. “Surely the saps have been dried out by now. How will you cause the explosion?”

  “The ship is brand new,” corrected Lady Mystic. “It came out of the shipyard after the invasion had already been launched. Besides, you can expand the air captured inside the wood as well as the saps.”

  Xavo stood silently for a moment and then finally nodded. “I had never thought of that,” he admitted. “You certainly do think differently than anyone I have ever known. I will take the liquids,” he offered. “You expand the gasses.”

  “So it is a race then?” chuckled Lady Mystic. “I accept the challenge. I will start at the stern.”

  Xavo grinned and turned his attention to the bow of the ship. The two mages fell silent as they gathered the power and concentrated on the ship. Several long minutes passed without disturbance of any kind. The sky grew lighter, and a soft wind began to herald the rising of the sun.

  Suddenly, the silence was shattered by distant sounds of explosions. The bow and stern of the mage ship exploded in a shower of wooden splinters, large clouds of mist appearing at both ends of the ship. Shouts of alarm immediately followed as the huge ship started sinking rapidly. Several people jumped from the sinking ship, but it went down so quickly that few of the mages ever made it to the deck before it slipped under the surface of the sea.

  “We need to separate somewhat,” cautioned Xavo. “No one must survive the sinking of the ship. Kill anyone trying to get to shore, but keep yourself hidden. If I see anyone trying to retaliate against you, I will focus on him. You do the same.”

  Lady Mystic nodded silently and moved along the beach to put some distance between Xavo and herself. Xavo moved in the opposite direction as his eyes scanned the surface of the sea looking for survivors.

  * * *

  The Star of Sakova walked through the wet encampment, rainwater still dripping from the canopy of the giant fargi trees. She knew that the sun had risen, but it was hardly noticeable in the Sakovan heartland. The tall fargi trees blocked much of the light, and a morning mist lingered from the storm that had passed through during the night. She made her way through the camp and headed for the large tent that sat prominently in the center of the encampment. Long before she reached the tent, deep creases marred her brow.

  Hundreds of Sakovans were stretched out on the ground. Healing mages, too numerous to count, were threading their way through the area, stopping to check on the condition of each of the wounded. Lyra’s eyes began to dampen, and she willed the tears to cease. Many of the wounded wore the old uniforms of the Imperial Guard of Omunga, but there were native Sakovans there as well. She recognized all too many of the faces as she headed for the tent. LifeTender saw Lyra approaching, and she hurried to intercept her before the Star of Sakova could enter the tent.

  “You don’t want to go in there,” cautioned LifeTender. “The worst cases are inside.”

  Lyra could hold back her tears no longer. She started crying as she turned and gazed at the hundreds of wounded lying outside the large tent. Her lips pressed tightly together as she shook her head and looked imploringly at LifeTender.

  “I must enter,” cried Lyra as she tried to regain some semblance of composure. “I am responsible for each and every one of them.”

  “You are responsible for defeating this attack on the Sakova,” LifeTender said soothingly, “but you are not responsible for the wounds these people had inflicted upon them. We are all here voluntarily to save our homeland. You must not take this personally.”

  “I will enter,” Lyra said stubbornly. “I must see how our people are suffering. I must let them know that their wounds will not be in vain.”

  “Let her enter,” ValleyBreeze said as she emerged from the tent to see who was talking outside the flap. “It will mean a great deal to the wounded that the Star of Sakova cares for their sacrifice.”

  “Alright,” nodded LifeTender, “but try to compose yourself, Lyra. We must not lead the wounded to despair.”

  Lyra nodded and wiped her eyes. She set her jaw rigidly and inhaled deeply to steady herself. ValleyBreeze held the flap open, and LifeTender escorted the Star of Sakova into the large tent. Lyra halted just inside the flap. She gazed at the neat rows of bodies laid out on the ground. She bit her lip as she saw men missing an arm or leg. Others had gaping rends in their flesh that were only visible because healing mages were changing the bandages at the time. She pictured similar gashes in those who were bandaged at the moment, and she fought back the tears. LifeTender took Lyra’s hand and started leading her to the left. Valley Breeze moved deftly and blocked their path.

  “Do not try to hide the truth from the Star,” berated ValleyBreeze. “She will learn about StormSong soon enough, and she will not appreciate your attempts to shield her from reality.”

  “StormSong?” gasped Lyra. “What is wrong with her?”

  LifeTender bit her lip, but she turned and led Lyra towards the right side of the tent. She did not attempt to answer the Star’s question, but silently led her along the rows of bodies until they stood at the feet of StormSong. Lyra looked down at the naked Sakovan warrior who had two healing mages kneeling alongside her. StormSong’s body was raw and ripped in a hundred places. Dozens of deep puncture wounds dotted the warrior’s flesh.

  “It is a miracle that she is still alive,” ValleyBreeze said softly. “She lost her choka and sword in the middle of the Motangan army. She must have fought with her bare hands.”

  “There was a pile of Motangan dead at her feet when HawkShadow and Goral found her,” added LifeTender. “I do not understand why she is still alive. There is not enough energy left in her body to aid the healers. The wounds just won’t close.”

  “She has never regained consciousness,” interjected one of the healing mages beside StormSong. “There is little hope for her. Will you pray for her, Lyra? Pray that Kaltara will accept her as a martyr for her people?”

  Lyra broke down and started crying. Tears flowed down Lyra’s cheeks and dripped to the ground as the rain dripped down from the fargi trees outside the tent. LifeTender’s face grew concerned as the nearby patients noticed the commotion, and the healing mage tried to lead Lyra out of the tent. Lyra ripped her
hand from LifeTender’s grasp and rushed to kneel beside StormSong. The two healing mages rose and backed off as ValleyBreeze shooed them away. LifeTender looked imploringly at ValleyBreeze, but ValleyBreeze merely shook her head in answer to the unspoken question.

  Lyra reached out and took StormSong’s hand in her own. She bowed her head in prayer, and her lips began moving silently. For several long minutes, the scene remained frozen, Lyra praying silently while LifeTender and ValleyBreeze looked on helplessly. Unexpectedly, ValleyBreeze reached out and grabbed LifeTender’s arm. LifeTender looked questioningly at her fellow healing mage and then followed her gaze to StormSong’s body. LifeTender’s mouth fell open in surprise, and her eyes widened as she stared at the naked Sakovan.

  A golden glow had grown almost imperceptibly around StormSong. The warrior’s raw flesh began to pale from bright red to pink. Open wounds began to close, and the dark red rings around the punctures began to grow smaller. LifeTender and ValleyBreeze watched in astonishment as StormSong’s body began to heal. Other healing mages were attracted by the now brilliant golden glow surrounding StormSong and Lyra. They began to gather around to witness the miracle.

  Suddenly, StormSong’s eyes popped open. She looked up at Lyra and saw the Star with her head bowed in prayer. A smile grew across the warrior’s face, and she closed her eyes again. Lyra continued praying, unaware that StormSong had awakened. The warrior’s body continued to heal, the pink skin turning even paler to match StormSong’s normal skin tone. The puncture wounds continued to grow smaller until they disappeared completely. A half hour after Lyra began praying, StormSong opened her eyes again and gently placed her free hand on Lyra’s head. The Star of Sakova opened her eyes and stared at StormSong’s face. Lyra smiled tautly, her tear-stained cheeks slowly giving way to a grin. She dropped StormSong’s hand and leaned forward, bringing StormSong’s body up so she could hug her. The embrace was long and silent, and finally the warrior broke it, her face clouded with concern.

  “How is SunChaser?” StormSong asked softly.

  “SunChaser?” echoed Lyra as she looked up at LifeTender questioningly.

  “She was shot in the back with an arrow,” replied the healing mage. “We dare not even remove it. We think it has punctured the heart.”

  “She is also unconscious,” added ValleyBreeze. “There is little we can do for her.”

  “Take me to her,” demanded Lyra as she rose unsteadily.

  LifeTender rushed forward to help Lyra rise. The Star of Sakova wobbled with exhaustion, and ValleyBreeze moved swiftly to help LifeTender support the Star. Together they led Lyra across the tent to SunChaser. The Sakovan spy rested facedown on the ground, a Motangan arrow protruding from her naked back. Lyra shook off her escorts and fell to her knees beside SunChaser. She bowed her head in prayer to Kaltara.

  * * *

  Zatho approached the premer’s tent in the center of the Motangan encampment. The sentries turned slightly away as he approached, but the Motangan mage stopped between them.

  “How is the premer today?” he asked softly.

  “He is in a foul mood,” one of the sentries replied. “General Valatosa is with him, and you may enter, but I would advise waiting for another day. This one is not starting well.”

  The black cloak hesitated, but he finally shrugged and sighed heavily. “It is not about to get any better,” he said to no one in particular.

  The lone surviving mage of Premer Doralin’s army moved the tent flap and entered. Doralin and Valatosa immediately looked up. Doralin waved the mage forward, and Zatho crossed the room and stood before the premer.

  “I need more mages,” declared Doralin. “I want you to contact Teramar immediately and arrange for the transport.”

  Zatho’s mouth opened to speak, but the premer waved him to silence.

  “I also want some food to accompany the mages,” the premer continued. “I am not sure what those fools in Alamar are doing, but my army is starving.”

  “I cannot contact Teramar,” Zatho reported when the premer stopped talking.

  “I specifically stated that every mage in my command was to be taught the air tunnel spell,” scowled Doralin. “If you don’t know it, you are worthless to me.”

  “I know the spell,” sighed Zatho. “I have tried contacting Teramar all morning. I am receiving no reply.”

  “Then try Vandamar,” snapped the premer. “I must have more mages and more food, and I must have it immediately.”

  “I cannot contact Vandamar either,” reported Zatho. “Nor can I contact Alamar or Duran. In fact, there is no one that I can contact with an air tunnel.”

  “What?” shouted Premer Doralin. “You claim to know the air tunnel spell, but you are incapable of contacting anyone? Explain yourself immediately.”

  “I cannot explain it,” Zatho replied defensively. “I have contacted all of those places before, but no one is answering my call. I do not understand it.”

  “Could it be the storm?” interjected General Valatosa. “I have heard that unusual wind patterns can disrupt an air tunnel.”

  “I cannot say for sure,” answered Zatho. “I have never had problems with the spell before, but it is not working now. I will continue to try contacting someone.”

  “Yes, you will,” scowled the premer. “You will continue to try until you do contact someone. Leave me.”

  Zatho backed out of the tent while the premer glared at the man. General Valatosa watched with dismay.

  “This invasion is not going as we expected,” he said softly.

  “You are a master of understatement,” snapped the premer. “We have lost three quarters of our men since leaving Motanga. Those that are still alive are ready to bolt at any moment, and the nightly attacks by the Sakovans have our mighty warriors staying up all night in fear. We are slowly starving to death, and our lone mage has no idea how to practice his craft. And you say that all is not going as we planned?”

  “We still have close to eighty thousand men,” General Valatosa offered meekly. “We have inflicted heavy casualties on the Sakovans, and they have nowhere to run. All is not lost.”

  “Over two dozen soldiers were caught this morning trying to desert,” replied Premer Doralin. “Tomorrow it may be hundreds. The next day will be thousands. We cannot hold this army together long enough to exterminate the Sakovans if we do not get food. It is that simple.”

  “What are you suggesting?” frowned General Valatosa. “Are you thinking that we should abandon our mission?”

  “I am seriously contemplating a pull back to Alamar,” Doralin sighed heavily. “I do not look at it so much as a retreat, as I do a regrouping. The men need to eat and replenish their strength.”

  “But our orders are to pursue the enemy and annihilate them,” Valatosa reminded the premer.

  “I know our orders without your reminding,” scowled the premer, “but I also know the capabilities of our armies. We cannot defeat the Sakovans without regaining our momentum, and the Sakovan raids are stealing that momentum from us. The battle at the ridge stole our energy. It wiped out our mages and brought fear into the hearts of our men. I would prefer to remain here and regroup if that is possible, but without fresh supplies I see no option other than returning to Alamar.”

  “We have ten thousand men in Alamar,” nodded General Valatosa, “and ten thousand more in Duran. We could rotate those troops into the main army and let some of those in our ranks take a break from the fighting. Perhaps the idea of a regrouping does have merit.”

  “I am leaning that way,” admitted the premer, “but I will give Zatho some more time to communicate with someone first. If food is soon to arrive, we will hold here. If not, we will return to Alamar.”

  “Let me send some men back to Alamar,” suggested General Valatosa. “Perhaps they can find out what the delay is with the food deliveries. It cannot hurt anything, and it may speed the caravans towards us.”

  “Do it,” nodded Premer Doralin. “Send a thousand men
to Alamar. Give them permission to execute anyone in Alamar who is holding up the food shipments.”

  Chapter 20

  Supply Lines

  Princess Alahara led the elves single file through the narrow opening to a small cave. There was only room enough for a few elves inside the cave where she had hidden with her sister so long ago. She moved in the dark to the tunnel that led to a long chamber that ended up overlooking the mineshaft. Several dozen elves followed.

  Princess Alahara had timed the visit to the mine perfectly. When she arrived at the ledge overlooking the shaft, the slaves were coming up in buckets, their long day of labor at its end. She gazed down at the kruls that were rotating a large wheel by walking in a circle and pushing spokes attached to the wheel. The turning wheel powered the buckets needed to haul the slaves up from the depths of the mine.

  The princess gritted her teeth in rage as she watched the slave master wield his whip. The whip was not used on the kruls turning the wheel, but rather on the elven slaves who he deemed were not moving fast enough. She fought the compulsion to attack immediately, knowing that the other overseers would be the last to come to the surface. She did not want any Motangans to get away, and she did not want to have to go deep into the mine to capture them. There were other targets to attack before the day was done.

  As the elven warriors gathered in the crawl space above the pit, Princess Alahara let her mind drift over the invasion plan, looking for any flaws that may cost elven lives. The three southern cities had been taken from the Motangans with little loss for the elves, but those cities required people to keep the conquered Motangans under control. While Avalar’s army was heading north to attack the Motangan armies out of Vandamar, Alastasia’s army was required to stay behind to govern the three cities. The elves were taking no chances of the Motangans regaining control over the ports.

  Princess Alahara had been chosen to attack the far spread sites where elven slaves were held. As she freed the slaves, they were sent to the southern cities to relieve elven warriors. Those warriors were then sent out to hunt down kruls encamped in the forests of the southern half of the Island of Darkness. The mine where Eltor had been enslaved was among the last places to be attacked before Alahara and Alastasia regrouped their armies and joined with Avalar to march on Vandamar.