13 Day War

by Richard S. Tuttle

  “I would be pleased to have you mend it,” Fletcher replied fearfully. “This is not the first time that it has happened. Did you find my boots?”

  “The boots were not lost,” quipped the Claw of Alutar as he stepped off the knife and moved behind the counter. “They are sitting right here on the counter waiting for you to pick them up.”

  Fletcher moved forward and picked up his knife. He made a show of sliding it back into its sheath and then kept his hands well away from it.

  “Why are you wasting your time mending shoes?” asked the Snake. “I could find more useful endeavors for a man of your talents.”

  Artimor laughed. “You have no idea what my talents are, Fletcher, but I know what yours are. The Snakes are nearly worthless. You have failed in every attempt to kill the Warrior King and his Knights of Alcea. Don’t even think of trying your hand against me again. I will not be so benevolent the next time.”

  Fletcher’s eyes opened wide in horror. “Who are you?’ he gasped. “And why do you favor soldiers if you are an enemy of the king? That makes no sense.”

  “Perhaps to your feeble mind,” mused the demonkin. “Sergeant Skyler is an aide to Colonel Borowski. As such, he carries a wealth of information around in his head, information that is important to the Federation. Is it not worth a bit of leather and a few seconds of time to secure such information?”

  Fletcher noticed that Artimor ignored his first question, and he knew that it was not a casual omission. He also realized that the sergeant would not volunteer such information for a free boot repair. That meant that Artimor had the power of a K’san to reach into people’s minds and take what he wanted. That also explained how he knew so much about Fletcher and the Snakes, yet he did not seem threatening any more.

  “If you shared such information with me,” posed Fletcher, “my people might be able to make use of it.”

  “Your time has come and gone,” replied Artimor. “Not only has the Federation started the attack, but the Alceans appear to already know about it, even though all of the armies have not yet left Zara. What bothers me is that they do not seem panicked by the news, and they should be. Why do you suppose that is?”

  Fletcher had not even received word that the attack had started, and the priest usually kept him informed. That the Alceans already knew surprised the Snake. It would mean increased danger for Fletcher and the others because the Federation soldiers would kill everyone without a thought of their loyalty to the Federation. He had to inform Tedesco and the others.

  “Forget about Tedesco,” scowled Artimor. “Can you not think beyond your own selfish ends?”

  Fletcher gasped. The shoemaker was reading his every thought, even as he was thinking them. He swallowed hard.

  “What can we do to help?” asked the Snake.

  “Forget about the others,” instructed the shoemaker. “Get a horse and ride like the wind. Go to your priest and tell him what I have told you. If K’san has a lick of sense, he will have his master send more soldiers through the portals to bolster the Federation forces. Warn him that there must be a spy among the planners of the attack, someone with enough knowledge to specify the locations of the portals and the timing of the attacks.”

  Fletcher nodded exaggeratedly and reached for his boots. The shoemaker reached for the boots before the Snake could. He tossed them on the floor behind the counter.

  “You will not need those,” stated the demonkin. “Just get a horse and race to K’san.”

  Fletcher nodded wordlessly and fled from the shop. He purposely kept his thoughts jumbled until he was outside on the city street. Only then did he reflect on his encounter with Artimor. He trembled as he remembered the shoemaker’s words and attitude. Artimor had spoken of K’san and the priest’s master as if they were not his concern. In Fletcher’s mind, that made Artimor an extremely powerful force, and the Snake was not comfortable in the company of such people. He was suddenly glad to have been given a task that would take him far away from Tagaret. He would think hard and long before he decided to return.

  * * * *

  General Bledsoe strode through the portal and into the barn in Miram. His personal detail immediately formed around him, and they moved out of the barn in a group. The barrel-chested general halted as he stepped fully into the morning sunshine. His bright eyes scanned the farm, instantly taking in the activities of 7th Corps of Barouk. He nodded in satisfaction, his long, brown beard swaying rhythmically. Within moments, Colonel Sawar noticed the general and ran towards him to report.

  “We are right on schedule,” declared the colonel. “Your horse will be brought to you shortly. Would you care to review the defenses?”

  “No, Colonel,” replied General Bledsoe. “You seem to have everything under control. Hold up the first company of cavalry until my horse arrives. I will be joining them for the journey to the rendezvous point.”

  “We are in enemy territory now,” the colonel warned gently. “We would not want to present the Alceans with a symbolic victory.”

  The general smiled paternalistically at the colonel. “The Alceans will claim no victory from Team Miram, either symbolically or otherwise. A company of the empire’s finest cavalry is more than a match for anything the Alceans would have this distance from their walled capital. My safety is ensured, and I want to be at the rendezvous point to welcome General Kozinski and to discuss marching orders with him.”

  Colonel Sawar nodded and saluted smartly. “I will see that your horse is brought to you promptly.”

  The colonel raced away, and General Bledsoe continued his observance of the men under his command. He was pleased with what he saw. Within minutes the general’s horse was brought to him, and Bledsoe dismissed the group assigned to guard him on the farm. He mounted his stallion and rode swiftly across the farm to where the cavalry was forming. A young captain saluted him and quickly issued instructions for his riders to form a protective shield around the general. The general smiled as he noted the efficiency of the company.

  “You were prepared for me to join you on the journey to the rendezvous point?” asked General Bledsoe.

  “Colonel Sawar informed me just a few minutes ago,” admitted the captain. “It is an honor to have you ride with us, General. Are you ready to leave?”

  “More than ready, Captain,” answered the general. “I am anxious to reach the rendezvous.”

  The captain needed no stronger hint of the general’s desire to move with haste. He called the company to order and instructed them to move out. The captain personally took the point and led the company along a narrow trail leading towards the main road. The company moved quickly along the trail, but not haphazardly. The general noted with pride that the riders constantly scanned the sides of the trail as well as the trail before them. The riders were alert and as quiet as a swift-moving company of cavalry could be. Within minutes they reached the rendezvous point, and the captain issued orders to his men to define a perimeter and maintain it. The general dismounted and waited for the vanguard of the 17th Corps of Spino. He did not have long to wait. When it did arrive, he was pleasantly surprised to see General Kozinski among the first riders. He respected the Spinoan general, but he had not thought that the Kozinski would take such a risk. It gave him more confidence in the plan he had in store.

  “Right on schedule,” General Kozinski greeted the team leader.

  “Any problems?” asked General Bledsoe.

  “None,” replied the Spinoan general. “The Alcean countryside is quiet this morning. Shall I have my army fall in behind yours?”

  “For now,” answered General Bledsoe, “but I want your army to remain intact as a separate unit. There will be no mixing of cavalry or infantry units. Even your battle mages will remain separate from mine. The formation you choose for your army is up to you.”

  General Kozinski returned a questioning gaze at the Baroukan. “I have no problem with your orders, General, but I must confess to being curious about the reason for them.” />
  “We are not one army, but two,” answered General Bledsoe. “I know most team leaders would look upon such a joining as doubling his forces, and there is nothing wrong with that, but I tend to think there might at times be an advantage in having two forces capable of maneuvering on their own. You will retain leadership of the 17th Corps, General, but you will also obey my orders. It will be up to your discretion to fulfill my orders as you see fit. Does that satisfy your curiosity?”

  General Kozinski smiled and nodded. He knew that General Bledsoe was paying him a compliment, and it pleased him. The Baroukan general was known within the Federation as a bulldog in battle, and Kozinski had been apprehensive about serving under him. In fact, he had taken a bit of ribbing from other generals. They had joked about Bledsoe using the 17th Corps as sacrificial fodder while the bulldog sunk his teeth into the enemy’s side. He could see now that the taunters had been misinformed. It was an unexpected surprise.

  “You honor me, General Bledsoe. I will endeavor never to disappoint you.”

  * * * *

  Long shadows melted away into an overall gloom as the fading light of day fled from the forest north of the Mya-Tagaret Road. The Elderal elf who ran swiftly through the forest, gauged his footsteps carefully, refusing to let a single errant sound betray him. He reached the meeting spot well before the horsemen.

  “They are coming, Prince Garong,” the elf runner reported softly.

  “All eight of them?” asked the Knight of Alcea.

  The elf runner merely nodded.

  “What of the soldiers?” asked Princess Rhula. “Are the mages escorted?”

  “They come alone,” answered the elf runner.

  The elven princess raised an eyebrow. “I will admit that I am surprised, Garong, but this mission is still foolishly risky. Those men are battle mages. You have to expect them to be shielded. After our arrows fail to slay the black-cloaks, they will unleash their battle magic on us. Everyone here will die. Is this how you want to be remembered by our people?”

  “I am not here to generate memories for future generations of Elderal,” retorted the prince. “I am here to ensure that the Elderal have a chance to have future generations. Rhula, the time to discuss this is long past. I am committed to see this through, but you bring up a valid point. The Elderal need an heir. It serves no purpose for both of us to remain here within danger’s grasp. Leave now and with haste. Mother would never forgive me for endangering both of her children needlessly.”

  “So, you do acknowledge the risk in your plan,” Rhula replied with a grin of victory. “That pleases me, but I am not one to abandon my brother in his hour of need. I can place an arrow as well as any of your men. Where do you want me?”

  Prince Garong sighed and smiled at the same time. “Behind the enemy. We do have a fallback plan, and that is the most critical part of this mission. If the mages are not shielded, we will not need expert archers, but if they do erect physical shields, every arrow will count. Circle around behind the black-cloaks. One of my men will explain what is to happen. Be quick. They will arrive in just a few moments.”

  The elven princess faded into the growing darkness, and Sprout glided down out of the trees and landed on Prince Garong’s shoulder.

  “Some of the mages are leery and some are not,” reported the fairy. “I would be surprised if none of them erected a physical shield. I think we must go with the fallback plan.”

  Prince Garong hesitated to respond. He was loath to use the backup plan unless he needed to, but he suspected that Sprout was correct in reading the moods of the black-cloaks. He used precious moments pondering in silence before eventually nodding to the fairy.

  “All right,” the prince said. “I hope you are quick to adapt because I am adding lines to your speech. I do not want to have to deal with horses and mages in one big tangle. That will make it almost impossible for our archers. Your task is to get the mages to dismount before approaching the trap zone. Can you do that?”

  It was the fairy’s turn to hesitate, but he eventually nodded affirmatively. “The priests are not fond of horses. Or should I say that horses fear the priests? Either way, I can do it.”

  “Then do it,” Prince Garong said in a whisper. “I hear them approaching.”

  The fairy did not take the time to respond. Sprout shot off of the elf’s shoulder and up into the trees. A moment later the image of K’san appeared in the failing light. Prince Garong faded into the trees and passed the word that the mission had changed.

  Morgora saw K’san and he altered his path towards the priest. The demonkin suddenly raised a hand to halt the mages.

  “Dismount,” the priest said simply.

  Morgora immediately complied, but not all of the black-cloaks did.

  “Why are we dismounting?” frowned one of the mages. “I don’t like this.”

  “Dismount,” repeated the demonkin.

  “Get off your horses,” Morgora scowled quietly. “For horses, his aura is worse than our Spell of Fear. Shield yourselves if you think that a demonkin would harm you.”

  “I’ve been shielded since leaving the camp,” retorted one of the black-cloaks, “and it has nothing to do with K’san. We are in enemy territory. Only a fool would travel unprotected.”

  The eight battle mages dismounted and walked forward to meet with K’san. Each of them was curious about the purpose of the clandestine meeting, and more than one of them was suspicious. When the mages had covered twenty paces of the way to the priest, K’san held up his hand again. The mages halted.

  “What game is he playing at?” scowled one of the mages. “I am of half a mind to turn and leave. We are not under the direction of a priest on this mission. We serve General Fortella.”

  “Perhaps we are about to be advised differently,” suggested another mage.

  Suddenly, bowstrings sang through the forest, and K’san instantly disappeared.

  “Trap!” shouted Morgora. “Shields up!”

  There was no time for erecting shields. Three of the black-cloaks fell immediately, Morgora being one of them. The other five black-cloaks had already protected themselves with physical shields, and they immediately fell back on their training, their eyes scanning the forest for targets. This was the moment that Rhula had feared when she argued with her brother, but she had not known about the backup plan then. Loud cracks split the forest in four different directions. The mages zeroed in on the sounds and prepared to shower the area with offensive spells, but they never got the chance. The sharp cracks had been the severing of the tie downs for a large net. The netting sprang up from under the debris on the forest floor and rose quickly towards the canopy. As the mages were jumbled together in the swiftly rising trap, more arrows shot through the trees. Unlike the prior arrows that had bounced off the invisible shields, these new arrows struck flesh as the mages momentarily lost their focus on the protection spells. Before the net reached its zenith, the black-cloaks were all dead.

  The Elderal elves quickly verified the kills and prepared to abandon the area in case a Federation patrol came searching for the missing mages. Princess Rhula pulled her brother aside and silently hugged him.

  “You always surprise me,” she said softly as she broke the embrace. “What made you think they would be vulnerable?”

  “While I was in Tagaret, I spent some time with an elven mage from Glendor,” answered Prince Garong. “One of the things Galdan told me was that a battle mage always needs his concentration. If you can disrupt him severely enough, he will lose his shields, but only for a second. Shields are almost instinctive for battle mages, and they can quickly construct them within a second, but it does leave a tiny window of opportunity open for attack.”

  Chapter 22

  Unnatural Emotions

  Queen Tanya bent over the corporal and examined him again. She frowned heavily and slowly shook her head. The corporal looked up at her, adoration in his eyes.

  “You don’t have to worry about me, Queen Tanya.
I am feeling much better now. Spend your energy on those less fortunate.”

  A smile formed on the queen’s lips as she shifted her glance to the corporal’s face. “I have already made two rounds of the entire infirmary, Corporal, and I will continue to do so until I am called away. You appear to be much healthier than you were a couple of hours ago when they brought you in.”

  “I felt like I was dying then,” the young corporal admitted, “but whatever you did to me, it has worked like a miracle. I feel just fine now. I can return to my duties if you will dismiss me.”

  A loud commotion caught the queen’s attention, and she turned towards the main door of the infirmary. Two guards burst into the room, one holding the door open while the other looked around for an empty bed. Immediately following the two guards were two more guards, and they were dragging a sergeant between them. Unlike the other patients in the infirmary, the sergeant had bloodstains on his uniform. The queen watched as the guards dragged the sergeant to an empty bed and chained him to it. With a sense of urgency she returned her gaze to the young corporal.

  “I want you to stay here for a while, Corporal. If you are still feeling well on my next round, I will have you dismissed.”

  The queen did not wait for a response. She hurried across the floor to speak to the guards before they left.

  “What is going on here?” asked the queen.

  “It’s Sergeant Skyler, Queen Tanya,” answered one of the guards. “He’s got a bad case of whatever is going around.”

  “You mean the plague?” asked the queen. “That would hardly account for the bloodstains.”

  “Aye, he has the plague,” answered one of the guards, “but he has the other affliction as well. He attacked Colonel Borowski with a knife.”

  “He just isn’t in his right mind,” added another guard. “I’ve known the sergeant for a long time and he worships the colonel. I can’t make any sense out of it.”

  “I saw it with my own eyes,” declared a third guard. “It was a clumsy attack, and he didn’t count on the colonel being as good as he is. He’s pretty fast for a colonel.”