13 Day War

by Richard S. Tuttle

Balamor nodded in understanding. The type of illusion required to manipulate so many moving objects would be extremely complex. The fairies would be incapable of doing it.

  “Why must the illusion be moving?” asked Balamor.

  “We do not know where in the city the demonkin might be,” answered Alex, “and if we announce beforehand where the king will speak, we give the enemy too much time to plan the assassination and escape routes. We want the demonkin to have to act in haste.”

  Balamor frowned and pressed his lips tightly together. For several moments, he did not speak. Everyone waited patiently.

  “If I were the assassin,” Balamor eventually said, “I would simply wait for the location of the speech to be announced. Why take the risk of acting in haste?”

  “The location of the speech will become crowded within minutes after it is announced,” answered Alex. “Even if the demonkin races to the location, he will stand no better chance of getting close than any other citizen.”

  “And he will stand almost no chance of getting away unnoticed,” added Queen Tanya. “The citizens will shout and point him out. They will even attack him, not understanding his powers.”

  “And this demonkin has orders to kill all four of us,” interjected Jenneva. “He cannot afford to be discovered while only killing one of us. Unless we are all killed together, he has to remain undiscovered to complete his task.”

  “I can see that you have devoted some thinking to this problem,” stated Balamor. “Can I have a day to view the city and the routes you anticipate using?”

  King Arik frowned at the delay, but he nodded in agreement. “You shall have everything you require,” he promised. “I will notify my staff to cooperate fully with you.”

  “Excellent,” Balamor responded as he rose to leave. “I will let you know when I am ready to hear your speech.”

  * * * *

  Colonel Rotti glanced at the meager flow of the Chi River as he rode alongside the column heading towards the vanguard. It was much less of a river than what he remembered from his journey last fall, but it was still beautiful. The thought of the crude dam blocking the flow of the river bothered him. He stared at the farmland across the river and shook his head in wonder. The Lanoirians had flooded excellent farmland upstream to create the lake, and the farmland below the dam seemed starved for water. It made no sense to him why they would do such a thing.

  “Are you planning to lead this army, Rotti?” scowled General Franz.

  The colonel tore his eyes away from the river and turned towards the column. In his admiration of the river, he had not been paying attention. He had passed the leader of Team Chi and was almost riding point. He slowed his horse and fell in alongside General Franz.

  “What are you doing up here, Rotti?” asked the general.

  “I was told that you wished to speak to me,” replied the colonel.

  “I asked for General Somma to come forward,” scowled the general.

  “I am acting on behalf of General Somma,” retorted Colonel Rotti. “The general is feeling a bit under the weather today. What did you need to discuss?”

  Colonel Rotti knew that General Franz had summoned General Somma to further humiliate him, but the colonel was not going to let that happen if he could prevent it.

  “Have you officially relieved Somma of command of the 18th Corps?” snarled General Franz.

  “I have not,” admitted the colonel. “As I am sure that you are aware, until we leave the war zone, only you have the authority to elevate me to command the 18th Corps, and you have not done so.”

  “Then my orders are being disobeyed,” snapped General Franz. “I specifically asked for General Somma to come forward.”

  “My apologies,” Colonel Rotti smiled thinly. “I will return to the rear and explain my impudence to General Somma. I will notify him that you require him in the vanguard for a purpose that I cannot fulfill.”

  General Franz glared at the colonel. He knew right then that Rotti fully understood the true purpose for calling Somma forward.

  “Do not toy with me, Colonel,” snapped the general. “I can break men like you quicker than a Spino mare.”

  “I would never toy with another officer,” replied the colonel, “especially in enemy territory when the column might be attacked at any moment. That would be nothing short of foolhardiness.”

  The general’s face reddened with rage, and his hand went for his sword. The colonel’s horse faltered for some reason, and the colonel quickly resumed his place alongside the general, but a pace further away, just out of reach of the general’s sword.

  “Get out of my sight, Colonel,” scowled the general, “before I do something we might both regret.”

  Colonel Rotti saluted the general and turned his horse towards the rear of the column. A moment later, Colonel Kerk appeared at his side.

  “That was a very foolish thing to do, Rotti,” warned the Baroukan colonel. “General Franz is not the man to make an enemy of. He never forgets a slight, and you have given him every reason to target you instead of General Somma.”

  “Then my mission was a success,” retorted the Spinoan colonel. “What Franz is doing to General Somma is despicable. It is behavior unworthy of an officer in any army.”

  “I will not argue that,” Colonel Kerk said softly, “but it is a death wish to cross Franz like you have. He will see that you die before this war is over.”

  “And you would help him achieve such a goal?” scowled Colonel Rotti.

  “No,” Colonel Kerk shook his head, “General Franz knows that we are friends. He will not mention any such plans to me, but there are plenty of others that he can call on to do such a deed. Watch your back, my friend. Unless General Franz dies in battle, your days are numbered.”

  “Thank you for the warning, Kerk,” replied Colonel Rotti. “Let me repay your friendship in kind. If we do come into battle and I am anywhere near General Franz, find an excuse to go elsewhere. You will not want to be by his side at that time, nor would you want to be seen in my company.”

  Colonel Kerk gasped, and he stared at his friend with disbelief. To kill your own general was the most unthinkable crime imaginable. The other soldiers would literally tear the assassin apart, and take pleasure in doing it. To even express such a thought was considered treason, yet Colonel Rotti had just done so.

  “We shall talk no more,” Colonel Kerk said coldly. “I do not want to know what is on your mind. Say nothing to me.”

  Colonel Rotti nodded sadly and watched his friend turn his horse and head in the opposite direction. For a long time, the colonel simply sat on his horse, staring at the river while the column marched by him. He had not intended to get into a death match with General Franz, but he abhorred the Baroukan general, and he would not let that man continue to terrorize General Somma. As his eyes stared at the water flowing by, his thoughts turned to desertion. If he could somehow get General Somma away General Franz, things might have a decent ending. There would certainly be a price to pay down the road, but if they survived the war, they could then plead their case in front of the king. The idea did not please the colonel. He was not the type of soldier to desert his post, but he knew that he could not survive the daggers of General Franz for long. In fact, he would not be surprised if an assassin came at him in the camp this very evening.

  Colonel Rotti dragged his mind away from his morbid thoughts and started riding towards the rear of the column again. He tried to replace the darkness in his mind by reminding himself how beautiful the countryside was. He let his eyes follow the river upstream to the distant dam. Movement off to the side attracted his attention, and he focused on the far bank of the river. He watched as eight large oxen were led to the edge of the high cliffs of the western bank. He thought it a strange place to lead such a team, and he watched in fascination as several men pulled on something and attached it to the team of oxen. He was too far downstream to have a good view, but the sunlight soon glinted off of something in the water. S
omething rising out of the water, he corrected himself. As he tried to focus on the bright object, he suddenly understood what he was seeing.

  The colonel remembered seeing a chain attached to the bottom of the crude dam, and he knew what the Lanoirians were going to do. He kicked his horse into a gallop and raced towards the rear of the column. As he sped along the eastern bank, his eyes looked across the river at the team of oxen, trying to gauge how much time he had left. The chain was not yet taut, but he knew that there would be no chance of outrunning death. That was not his goal. The colonel spied General Somma in the column, and he shouted for him to leave the column. The general looked confused by the request, but he complied. He turned his horse out of the column, and the colonel brought his horse to a halt nearby. Colonel Rotti leaped off his horse and ran towards the general.

  “Dismount,” ordered the colonel as he stripped off his sword and threw it on the ground. “Do it quickly.”

  General Somma dismounted. “What is wrong with you, Colonel?”

  “You must trust me, Somma,” the colonel replied, ignoring his superior’s rank. “I am trying to save your life. Get rid of anything that is heavy. Remove your boots, your sword, anything that weighs anything.”

  The request was absurd, but the general watched as the colonel followed his own advice. Trusting in the colonel, Somma began to comply. The other soldiers passing by looked at the two senior officers and chuckled under their breaths. Colonel Rotti did not even notice them. He was too busy rummaging in his pack for a length of rope.

  Chapter 24

  The Flood

  Colonel Rotti stripped off his pack and tossed it on the ground. He stuck the small grappling hook in his belt next to his knife and then picked up the coil of rope. He took a section of rope and wrapped one end around the general, tying it securely across his chest and under his arms.

  “What are you doing, Rotti?” balked the general.

  “Saving your life, General,” the colonel answered as he passed the other end of the rope under his own arms. “Tie this for me. Make it as tight as you can.”

  The general hesitated as the passing soldiers started laughing loudly enough to hear.

  “General,” the colonel said with a sense of urgency, “that crude dam is about to come tumbling down. Tie the rope, or I will not be around to save you.”

  The general froze and his hands started trembling.

  “Tie it, General,” snapped the colonel. “I can do it myself, but I will never get it as tight as you can.”

  General Somma nodded and began tying the rope, but he also started gasping for breath. Colonel Rotti knew that the general was going to be worthless in just a few moments. As soon as the knot was tied, Rotti took the general’s hand and dragged him through the column, away from the small stream that would soon become a torrent. He knew that they could not outrun the flood, and that was not what he had in mind. Once through the column, he halted and looked at the closest trees. He immediately dismissed all of the younger trees as being too flimsy and concentrated on the mature ones. He also did not look deep in the woods. He wanted a tree on the very edge of the road, but he particularly wanted a dead tree, or one that had uncovered roots, something that would fall rather easily, but still be sturdy enough to avoid being splintered by another tree. About one-hundred paces away, he saw the perfect tree. It stood out from the rest so that those trees upstream would not crush them while they waited. He pulled the general in a run to the dead tree and placed the general up against it.

  “Stand right there and hug the tree,” instructed the colonel as he ran around the tree once and then passed the general to stand beside him. He pulled the general away from the tree just enough to let the rope pass between Somma and the tree. “Listen carefully to me now, General. What I have to say are the most important words you will ever hear. Pay attention to them.”

  The general nodded nervously, unable to find his voice.

  “When you hear a crack split the air, that will be the sound of the dam breaking. Do not be alarmed. Everyone else is going to panic, but we will not. We are going to stand right here and let the flood carry us downstream. You will have to hold your breath for a very long time, so try to get a hold of your breathing now while you can. Start taking deep breaths and holding them for a bit before letting them out. When the time comes, I will tell you when to take a big breath and hold it. Do you understand?”

  “I understand that we are all going to die,” quaked the general.

  “No, we aren’t,” the colonel replied with a confidence in his voice that was totally contrived. “You must have faith in me, Somma. Trust me.”

  The general nodded, and the colonel felt guilty for his deception. Rotti did not think his ploy had much chance of success, but it was far better than running and screaming like the rest of the soldiers were about to do. He pulled the hook from his belt and forcefully slammed it into the tree between him and the general. He then adjusted the rope so that it set in the curvature of the hook

  The crack boomed through the valley like a clap of thunder directly overhead. Somma started sobbing fearfully, and the colonel stretched his hand and gently patted the general’s shoulder. Shouts and screams roared from the road as the soldiers turned and saw the dam crumbing and the water breaking through. For a few moments, the only danger was a huge torrent of water streaming through a hole in the dam. Soldiers started running in every direction, but none of them could outrun what was about to happen. Not even the fastest horse could outrun the deluge that was soon to be upon them.

  With another series of loud cracks, the dam ruptured with an explosive force. The huge trees that had made up the dam flew through the air as a solid wall of water burst into the valley. The water roared as it smashed into the ground and swept downstream, tumultuous waves destroying everything they touched. Rotti watched carefully as the flood headed downstream. The center of the riverbed was the first to fill, and the deluge carried some of the huge trees downstream like giant battering rams. Anything in their path would be instantly crushed. The colonel was not concerned with them. He was more concerned with the huge trees that had been thrown to the sides of the stream by the dam explosion. Those trees were not yet in the stream of flowing water, but they would be as soon as the flood widened a little bit more. They were the missiles that would kill the soldiers still on the road.

  He watched as the flood widened at an alarming pace. He knew that the entire valley would be underwater long before the lake was empty, but he was unprepared for the swiftness with which the valley filled. Within mere moments, a solid wall of water stretched across the entire valley. The colonel watched it coming towards him with a sense of dread.

  “Give me your hand,” Rotti said to the general, “and grab the tree with your other hand. What ever you do, do not panic. It will be scary, but trust in me. We will survive.”

  The colonel glanced over his shoulder and saw the wall of water about to hit. He turned his face away from the flood and shouted for the general to hold his breath. The water hit like a solid brick wall, and the colonel felt himself get lightheaded as he smashed against the tree that he was tied to. Within an eye blink, he had gone from standing next to the road to being entirely underwater. The force of the water tore at him, trying to sweep him downstream, but the rope held him fast, so fast that it felt as if the rope would rip right through his chest and split him in two. He wanted to scream in agony, but he could not. Objects began striking his back with increasing regularity, and Rotti suddenly felt like a fool. The tree he had chosen was sturdier than he had anticipated. Instead of falling easily as he had hoped, it held firm, and showed every intention of continuing to do so. That meant that he and the general were tied at the bottom of the flood with no chance to escape.

  Suddenly, Rotti felt the dead tree lean into the flow of the water, but his lungs were already screaming for air. He did not think he would survive even long enough to reach the surface, and he thought about the poor general who had pu
t his faith in him. It was then that he realized that he no longer held Somma’s hand. Rotti’s world started to go dark just as the tree was ripped from the soil. The dead tree shot through the water like an arrow and burst into the air before slamming back into the tumultuous foam. Rotti’s eyes rolled back in his head as he gasped for air. His lungs screamed for more air, and all the colonel could think about was breathing. Waves crested over his body, and water flowed into his mouth. He coughed and gasped as some of the water found its way into his lungs. The colonel lost all sense of time.

  When his breathing was somewhat under control, he opened his eyes. The first thing he saw was the wild, raging water. What had been a peaceful river the previous fall now had massive confused waves like the sea in the midst of a terrible storm. Everywhere he looked, people and horses were thrashing in the water, and hundreds of trees were floating downstream. The water itself was murky brown, and huge waves rose unbidden with little sense of direction or purpose. He glanced to his right and saw the general. Somma appeared dead, but Rotti had to be sure. He reached out and grabbed the general’s wrist. He felt life still flowing through the general’s body, and his lips curled upward in a slight smile. They had both survived the first challenge.

  Colonel Rotti pulled himself to the general to make sure that he was breathing. The back of General Somma’s uniform was shredded, and his forehead had a nasty cut, but the colonel could detect no other damage. He raised his head up and looked around to get his bearings. The dead tree that they were using for a raft had found its way to the center of the channel. While the whole river was racing towards the sea, the center channel was moving much faster than the edges. The colonel turned to look behind him. The root structure of the dead tree appeared intact, and it gave the colonel an idea. He pulled on the rope in an attempt to reach the roots, but there was not enough play in the rope. He pulled the knife from his sheath and cut the rope. Working frantically in case the dead tree rammed some other debris and threw him into the water, he pulled the rope from Somma’s end until he had retrieved the entire coil. He then retied the free end of the coil to the rope tied around his chest.