Army of the Dead fl-8

by Richard S. Tuttle

  By the time Cardijja reached the sentries at the western edge of the encampment, a long line of soldiers had already started to leave the camp northward. An hour later screams ripped through the camp from the east. Cardijja hurried towards the eastern perimeter to verify his suspicions. He met General Luggar half way there.

  “Now we will see if you are right,” commented the general. “I have ordered horses readied.”

  “It is sooner than I would have hoped,” frowned the premer. “With this foul sky it is hard to tell how late it really is. Let’s see what this disruption is all about.”

  The premer and the general hurried eastward. They were still far from the perimeter when they halted. The screams ripped through the air, and soldiers ran for their lives. Cardijja squinted into the darkness. He saw movement, but he could not identify anything other than red-clad soldiers running past him.

  “Look!” gasped Luggar as he pointed off to the right.

  Cardijja followed the general’s finger and stared into the distance. He could not see anything but blackness. Suddenly, distant campfires appeared. Cardijja rubbed his eyes to make sense of what he was seeing. He could not imagine who would be lighting the distant campfires. It took a few moments for the truth to register. His gaze rose upward, and he saw a huge black mass moving eastward. He shuddered at the size of the spider. Campfires in the distance winked out as the spider’s body blocked them from view.

  “Others are coming towards us,” Luggar shouted with fear. “We need to retreat now.”

  Cardijja swiveled his head and saw the large blobs of black coming out of the darkness of the jungle. Some soldiers on the perimeter tried to attack the creatures, but most of the men turned and ran, their screams joining the chorus from all over the camp. The surge of retreating soldiers nearly mobbed the premer and the general. Cardijja grabbed Luggar by the arm and pulled him.

  “To the horses,” he shouted over the screaming. “Our men cannot fight such beasts.”

  The officers ran along with the retreating soldiers. When they reached the area where the premer’s tent had stood, they mounted their horses and raced across the encampment to the west. They halted at the edge of the jungle as terrified soldiers tried to flee onto the plains. The sentries forcibly corralled the fleeing soldiers and forced them to join the column heading northward. Cardijja swiveled in his saddle and viewed the terror-stricken campground with disgust. Fleeing soldiers were knocked down and trampled by others. Some men became human infernos as they stumbled into fire pits and ignited themselves.

  “We waited too long,” General Luggar said softly.

  “We moved as quickly as we could,” Cardijja snapped while inwardly conceding that the general was correct. “If we had not already begun the evacuation, we might have lost everything.”

  * * *

  General Luggar rode towards the vanguard of the column, the soldiers stepping off the beaten trail to make way for the officer. When he reached Premer Cardijja, he slowed alongside him.

  “Are the spiders still attacking?” the premer asked, his voice weary with fatigue.

  “Only the stragglers,” reported the general. “It does make the men keep up with the column.”

  “Delightful,” scowled Cardijja. “How many did we lose?”

  “It is hard to tell,” sighed Luggar. “Maybe thirty or forty thousand.”

  “Forty thousand?” gasped Cardijja.

  “And half of your generals,” nodded Luggar. “The spiders seemed to go out of their way to pursue anyone riding a horse. I had to run from several of them.”

  “And we have not even crossed the plain yet,” frowned the premer as he looked at up at the lightening sky. “I think we should begin that portion of the trip within the hour.”

  “I will see to it,” offered the general.

  Cardijja watched General Luggar ride forward. The premer pulled his horse to the side of the trail at the first opportunity and allowed the column to march past him. He gazed at the weary soldiers as they passed by, their shoulders slumped and their heads hung low in exhaustion. Even one hundred and sixty thousand strong, they barely resembled an army any more. Cardijja closed his eyes and sat patiently waiting for the order to exit the jungle.

  An hour later the order was passed along the column. Cardijja opened his eyes and let in the light of dawn. The Motangan army started filtering out of the jungle. Premer Cardijja patted his horse forward and broke through the last remaining jungle plants to emerge onto the plain. His head swiveled from left to right as a long line of red-clad soldiers emerged from the jungle and headed westward across the open plain. He spurred his horse into action and rode across the line of soldiers, shouting as he rode.

  “There is a long day’s march ahead of us,” he shouted, “but a good night’s sleep at the end of it. March lively and cross as quickly as you can, but keep together. There are tribesmen out here.”

  The soldiers immediately quickened their step, but Cardijja frowned when their enthusiasm only lasted a few minutes. The men were weary and at the end of their strength. They needed sleep before they fought anything. Cardijja wheeled his horse around and rode out ahead of the soldiers. When he was well ahead of them, he turned to gaze upon them. He saw another rider approaching and soon recognized General Luggar.

  “It is not wise for you to be so far from the army,” advised the general as he caught up to the premer.

  “It is wise to have a scout out front,” retorted Cardijja. “I want to see if the tribesmen are coming.”

  “Let me be the scout,” offered Luggar.

  “Where do you get your strength from?” asked the premer. “You have been running around more than I have. You should be dead on your feet.”

  “I caught some sleep last night,” shrugged the general. “While you were planning our escape, I was napping peacefully. I wish you had gotten some sleep. It will be a long day.”

  “We will ride together,” declared the premer. “Two sets of eyes are better than one.”

  The two officers rode for hours far out in front of their men. Their eyes constantly scanned the horizon looking for any signs of the Fakaran horsemen. High sun came and went, and the premer began to feel good about his decision to evacuate the jungle. It appeared as though they had fooled the Fakarans and slipped away from the trap that had been laid for them. As the sun began to dip towards the peaks of the mountains, the officers came to a small rise. They rode to the summit and halted.

  “The forest!” exclaimed General Luggar pointing to the west. “We have made it.”

  “So we have,” grinned the premer. “I wish there was a god to offer up praise to.”

  “You do not believe that Vand is a god?” asked the general. “You truly do not care much for your life. What has happened to you, old friend? You were never so skeptical before.”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” sighed the premer as he swiveled in his saddle.

  As the premer turned to look back at his army his mouth fell open, and he cursed loudly. General Luggar turned to see what had caused the premer such alarm. Far to the east a huge dust cloud rose over the plain. Barely visible in the distance were thousands of horses charging from both directions. The Fakarans were decimating the tail end of the Motangan column.

  “Those cowardly dogs,” spat the general. “They are murdering our men while we are in retreat.”

  “That does not make them cowardly,” Cardijja sighed in frustration. “Actually it is a brilliant move. Had they attacked the vanguard, you and I could have warned the men to prepare for an attack. Instead they hit us at our weakest position. We must learn to expect the unexpected from the Fakarans. Ride out to the column. I want the first two thirds of the men to continue onward towards the forest. The last third is to stand and fight.”

  “They must all stand and fight,” objected the general. “You cannot throw a third of your army away.”

  “Follow my orders,” snapped the premer. “The men are too tired and weak f
rom hunger to fight. We can sacrifice a third of the men to save two thirds, or we can lose them all. I intend to save those that I can. Move out.”

  General Luggar saluted formally and rode to the east. Premer Cardijja watched in rage as the Fakarans charged over and over again. The column of Motangans began to get visibly smaller as the horsemen worked their way westward leaving thousands of bodies in their wake. Eventually the Motangan army splintered into two groups. The large group hurried westward while the small group spread out in a semicircle facing east. Cardijja wanted to bow his head in prayer for the brave men that were offering up their lives to help their brethren, but he refused to accept Vand as a god, and he knew no other god. Instead, he sat in stony silence as he watched his men defend against the Fakaran horsemen.

  An hour later the vanguard of the Motangan army ran over the small knoll. Cardijja waved them onward, pointing to the forest not far to the west. Tears came unbidden to his eyes as he watched the slaughter of the defenders down on the plain to the east. Their arc of defense grew smaller with each Fakaran charge until none of the Motangans were left. Expecting the horsemen to pursue the rest of the Motangan army, Premer Cardijja was surprised to see the Fakarans turn to the south and ride away. Moments late General Luggar arrived atop the knoll.

  “The Fakarans retreated,” Cardijja remarked softly.

  Luggar turned in his saddle and stared down at the plain. His eyes widened in astonishment.

  “Why?” he asked. “Why did they not pursue the rest of us?”

  “I don’t know,” replied Cardijja, “but the action does not bring comfort to me.”

  “You would have preferred for them to continue attacking us?” asked the general.

  “No,” Cardijja shook his head, “but their departure puzzles me.”

  “Maybe they are only interested in attacking the weakest portions of our army?” suggested Luggar.

  “That is possible,” shrugged the premer, “and it would be a wise strategy, but I am forcing myself to expect the unexpected. How large is this strand of forest?”

  “It is not charted,” answered the general, “but it is huge. What we saw riding eastward was that it extended far to the north of the pass we came through. Do you think they plan to attack us again when we leave the forest?”

  “That is a possibility,” nodded the premer. “If that is their plan, the Fakarans will be in for a surprise. Once our men are rested, an attack like today’s will cost the horsemen greatly. They should have pursued us while we were still tired. The ease of their victory today will make them unprepared for a true Motangan defense.”

  Premer Cardijja wheeled his horse around and headed down the western slope of the knoll. General Luggar rode alongside, his previous disagreement with the premer behind him. As the sun was disappearing from the sky, they rode into the coolness of the sevemore forest. The Motangans had moved well into the forest before setting up camp. Campfires dotted the woods, and several deer were already being cooked over the fires. Cardijja smiled broadly as he saw the spirits of his men returning. When he made his way to the center of the camp, he saw that his tent was just being erected. He dismounted and handed his reins to a soldier. Luggar dismounted as well.

  “This is like paradise,” Luggar smiled before touching the premer on the arm and looking at him seriously. “I want to apologize for my words earlier, Cardijja. As things turned out, your decision was a wise one. I probably would have lost the whole army by making the men take a stand. I am sorry for doubting you.”

  “You followed my orders,” smiled Cardijja. “I ask no more of any man. My decisions will not always be right, but I will always do what I think is best for the majority of the men. That jungle was a trap designed just for us. We are fortunate to have survived it with half of our men. It was meant to destroy us totally. Do not underestimate these Fakarans. What we were told on Motanga was nothing more than lies to boost our morale. I would have preferred the truth.”

  “So that is why you have turned from Vand and Tzargo?” frowned Luggar. “You feel that they are using you?”

  “Of course they are using me,” chuckled Cardijja. “That has always been plain to any man with half a brain. It is the way of rulers. They use the little people to obtain their goals. A soldier is used to being used,” he continued, “but not abused. Doralin, Shamal, and myself were kept in the dark about the true nature of the people that we are tasked to destroy. We were led to believe that they were savages that needed to be exterminated.”

  “And you don’t think they are?” inquired the general.

  “Their attacks have been brilliant,” answered the premer. “They have stood up against a vastly superior force and suffered few casualties. If we had been expecting such a tough fight, the outcomes may have been different. That is what I hold against Vand and Tzargo. They have wasted thousands of Motangan lives and for what purpose?”

  “Is it not our task to win the battles?” frowned Luggar. “Sure they could have been more straightforward about the enemy, but that is hardly a valid reason to rebel against them.”

  “We could have conquered these lands with few losses,” retorted Cardijja, “but that is not enough for Vand. He wants these people exterminated, and he doesn’t care how many of us die to accomplish it. Don’t you see, Luggar? He cares for our men as little as he cares for the enemy.”

  Chapter 35

  Forest of Death

  The Motangan encampment quickly succumbed to sleep. The weary and exhausted soldiers barely finished eating before nodding off. General Luggar walked around the camp and then entered the premer’s tent. Premer Cardijja was fast asleep, and the general decided to catch some sleep himself. He left the premer’s tent and was walking through the sleeping camp when shouting came from the east. He started to run towards the noise when he heard more shouting from the west. The general stopped short and tilted his head, listening for the words of the shouting soldiers. Within moments he heard shouts from every direction. The cries of battle filled the air, and the general raced back to the premer’s tent. He grabbed a soldier and ordered him to find out what was happening. He tore open the flap and found the premer rising from his nap.

  “What is it, Luggar?” asked the premer.

  “It is an attack,” reported the general. “I just sent a man to investigate. It appears to be an attack from all sides. I was going to check myself, but I thought it wiser to awaken you.”

  The premer nodded and belted on his sword. He strode out of the tent, and the general followed. They stood silently outside the tent listening to the sounds.

  “Archers,” commented Cardijja. “Did you say the attack was from all quarters?”

  “It is,” nodded the general.

  “Issue orders to pull the troops inward,” commanded the premer. “We may be surrounded, but it does not sound as if the enemy is charging. Create a tight circle, Luggar. I want shields on the outside and archers on the inside.”

  General Luggar ran off to deliver the premer’s orders. Moments later a soldier ran towards the tent and halted in front of the premer. He was clearly out of breath, and Cardijja waited patiently for the message.

  “General Luggar sent me out to discover the nature of the attack,” reported the soldier. “We are under attack by archers.”

  “I gathered as much,” nodded Cardijja. “Are there any horsemen about?”

  “No horses that anyone can see,” the soldier shook his head. “Some of the men swear that they saw elves, but that can’t be, can it?”

  Premer Cardijja subconsciously bit his lip as he pondered the question. There should be no elves in Fakara, at least according to the spies, but those same spies had missed other important things, like giant spiders and small humans with blowpipes. He had been informed of the fall of the Island of Darkness to the elves, so he was certain that they had joined up with the enemy, but what would they be doing in this particular forest? Suddenly the answer dawned to the premer.

  “It is elves attackin
g,” shouted General Luggar as he raced towards the tent. “What in the blazes are the elves doing here?”

  “Killing us,” Cardijja said calmly. “The attack will not last long, but the elves will be back later.”

  “Explain yourself,” frowned the general as he waved the soldier away.

  “They mean to keep us from sleeping,” explained the premer. “That is what the enemy always intended to do. Make us weary with exhaustion, and pick us off in small slivers until we are all dead. What a deviously brilliant plan. It doesn’t matter how large an army we have. They will continue to harass us until we are all dead. The horsemen sleep while the spiders attack. When they wake up they attack us on the plains, then they sleep and the elves fire arrows into our camp all night. No doubt the horsemen will be back tomorrow.”

  “We cannot allow that,” scowled the general. “We must counterattack.”

  “Counterattack?” echoed the premer. “And how do you suggest we do that? Have you ever tried finding elves in the forest? Why do you think the kruls were created? I will tell you. It was not just for their strength that the mages developed them. They also have a keen sense of smell, particularly suited to hunting runaway elves. When the alarms go off on the Island of Darkness, what are the rules?”

  “The army seals the city, and the kruls are sent out to hunt the escapees,” the general nodded in defeat.

  “Precisely,” replied the premer. “Oh, some soldiers will be sent out on patrols as well, but they are mostly to herd the elves to where the kruls can find them.”

  “So what do we do?” asked the general as the sounds of battle diminished. “We cannot just stay here and be targets for the elves.”

  “No, we can’t,” agreed the premer, “but I am at a loss as to what we should do. We could organize patrols and send them out to hunt the elves, but I doubt that they will return to camp. I wonder how many elves we are facing?”