13 Day War

by Richard S. Tuttle

  “I have one stop to make,” Prince Oscar announced to this newly formed escort. “Listen to my words carefully and ask no questions. I am going to enter a shop and make a purchase. If I am not out within three minutes, you are to enter the shop and get me out, even if you have to do so forcibly. You will say nothing to me or anyone else until we all return to the palace. Do you understand?”

  One of the soldiers opened his mouth to ask for clarification of the strange orders, but he suddenly thought better of it. Prince Oscar was well known within the palace for being exact with his orders. The soldier nodded his understanding. The shoemaker’s shop was fairly close to the Royal Palace and within minutes they reached the entrance to the shop. The two soldiers immediately took up posts on each side of the doorway and the prince entered the shop. A tiny bell rang as Oscar closed the door. An old man with thick, white hair hobbled through a curtain and entered the room. The shopkeeper looked at the prince with a puzzled expression.

  “May I help you?” asked Artimor.

  “You may,” Prince Oscar smiled warmly. “You are the shoemaker who made the boots for the king?”

  “Were they not to his liking?” asked the demonkin.

  “Quite the contrary,” replied the prince. “He wears them every day. I must agree with him that the workmanship is exquisite. As I am in the market for another pair of boots myself, I thought that you should be the one to provide them.”

  “Ah,” nodded the shoemaker, a hint of skepticism in his voice. “You are Prince Oscar, are you not?”

  “I am.”

  “And you want me to make you something similar to what I gave to the king?”

  “Not at all,” replied Prince Oscar. “I merely need a pair of simple boots to use during inclement weather. They need not be anything special, but I thought I would buy them from you to show the king’s appreciation of your gift.”

  Prince Oscar felt a tingling sensation in his mind. Had he not been expecting something to happen, he would never have felt it. He concentrated on his plans to secure the old estate of Duke Everich for the king to convalesce in. The feeling lasted only a minute, and Oscar suppressed a sigh of relief.

  “Perhaps something that you have in stock would suffice,” the prince continued. “I am rather short on time today.”

  The shoemaker nodded with a smile and walked to one of the shelves. He took a pair of new boots off the shelf and handed them to the prince.

  “These boots are your size,” said the shoemaker. “You will not even need to try them on. Trust me. I am an expert on feet.” Artimor paused and then lowered his voice, “Some of my customers have been lamenting the fact that the king has not addressed the plague that is running rampant in the city. Is he not well himself?”

  Prince Oscar started as if someone had just uncovered a state secret. He glanced around the shop anxiously and then returned his eyes to the shoemaker. He sighed and nodded slightly.

  “He is feeling a bit under the weather,” the prince replied confidentially, “but it is better not to talk about such things. Besides, I am sure that the citizens do not need the king to tell them about the sickness plaguing the city. How much are the boots?”

  “They are a gift,” Artimor smiled.

  “No,” balked the prince. “You have been more than generous already. I insist on paying. A merchant should not be expected to provide for royalty at the expense of others.”

  Just then the door opened, and two soldiers entered the shop. Prince Oscar shoved several gold coins into the shoemaker’s hand.

  “I must leave,” the prince said apologetically. “I will stop by again and let you know how well these fit.”

  The prince and his escort left the shop and walked back to the Royal Palace. Before passing through the gates, the prince made the soldiers swear not to reveal where they went or what his orders had been. Once parted from the escort, Oscar hurried up to the library to join in the planning.

  “The deed is done,” reported the prince. “Now we can get to the details of this plan.”

  “Are you sure he knows about the Everich estate?” asked Alex.

  “I felt a tingling in my mind,” answered the prince. “I am sure that he was probing it. “Why did you pick the Everich estate for the ambush site?”

  “It has certain features that we can make use of,” smiled Alex, “but mostly because it will contain any damage to an area where there are no innocents. Now we have to plan how to get Arik into the estate without being attacked.”

  “Keep the king heavily shielded while transporting him,” suggested Balamor. “While Artimor can likely blast away the shields, he will be hesitant to do so if he thinks that the shields will be dropped once the king is on the estate. He will want the maximum effect of his spells to do damage, not be dissipated by shields. I think you should have multiple, powerful mages shielding him for the trip. The more the better. Let him sense the power of the shields.”

  “Wycaramor was strong enough to destroy this library,” commented General Gregor, “and Lycindor destroyed two rooms in the palace. If the Mage is correct, and Artimor is the most powerful Claw of Alutar, Duke Everich’s estate will not fare well under the demonkin’s attack. It will likely be damaged. Are you sure it is wise to have the king inside such a structure? He will be trapped.”

  “The King will be safe,” promised Alex. “We just need to be sure of Aritmor’s location at all times.”

  “The fairies will handle that,” chirped Prince Midge. “I have already assigned fairies to keep watch on the demonkin.”

  “Then we are ready to plan the rest of this,” declared Prince Oscar. “Let me explain how I envision this unfolding and then Alex can present the military requirements for the ambush. We will need to discuss everything quickly, but thoroughly. There will be no room for ambiguity, and we have little time to put everything in motion.”

  * * * *

  Colonel Dukirk sighed anxiously as he rode through the swamp with twenty other riders. He was now five leagues ahead of the main column of Team Danver Shores, and he was not happy with what he was seeing. Instead of the roadway widening and returning to forested land as he had expected, it had continuously narrowed until the murky waters crowded the road on both sides. The road resembled a land bridge through the watery muck, and there was not a decent campsite in view.

  As if responding to the colonel’s sigh, the squad leader spoke. “It doesn’t look good, Colonel. The road stays rather narrow up ahead as far as I can see.”

  Colonel Dukirk nodded in agreement. “We are already at the distance of a day’s march, but I cannot imagine camping here for the night. We will ride on a bit farther.”

  Less than an hour later, the land widened around the road. The cavalry squad halted to survey the land. It was a grassy meadow, though quite damp underfoot. Colonel Dukirk dismounted as did the other riders. When the colonel stepped off the relatively hard surface of the road, his boots sank just a bit in the muck. He shook his head in disgust and sighed once again.

  “It’s better than nothing,” commented the squad leader.

  “Barely,” conceded the colonel. “Send one of your men back to General Pryblick to inform him that today’s march will be a bit longer than normal. He will want an accurate estimate of the distance so he can pace the infantry appropriately.”

  The squad leader nodded and summoned one of his men. He quietly instructed the soldier and sent him on his way before returning to the colonel.

  “Do you think the ground will dry any under the brunt of the sun?” asked the colonel. “I have no practical experience with swamps.”

  “Nor do I,” admitted the squad leader. “The only sizeable swamp in Zara is on the western side of the Barrier. I have never been there, but I think the men should expect damp ground tonight.”

  A violent splash caught the attention of the two men, and they both whirled towards the sound. They gaped at the sight of a giant reptile with a cavernous mouth full of long, sharp teeth. The cr
eature must have felt foreign eyes upon it because it closed its mouth and slithered off into the water.

  “What was that?” gasped the squad leader.

  “I don’t know,” the colonel said in a whisper, “but it does not give me a warm feeling about our campsite. That thing looked as if it could swallow a man whole.”

  “That would be far less painful that what I was envisioning,” quaked the squad leader. “Did you see the teeth on that? It could rip the belly out of a horse with one bite.”

  Colonel Dukirk nodded as he eased towards his horse. “I am going to check further north. Perhaps there is drier ground within a reasonable distance.”

  The squad leader whistled to get his men’s attention as he hurried after the colonel. “We will join you. We are, after all, supposed to be protecting you.”

  Colonel Dukirk smiled inwardly at the squad leader’s devotion to duty. He knew that that the man was fearful of remaining near the giant reptile, and he did not blame him. Such monsters were unheard of. The cavalry squad rode for another hour before halting once again. The road through the swamp had narrowed within minutes of leaving the campsite, and it had not widened again. Now, an hour north of the campsite, the road ended.

  “This cannot be,” scowled the colonel. “We must have missed a turn somewhere.”

  “We missed no turns,” replied the squad leader. “This road might be fine in drier weather, but I suspect that springtime is not the right time to be here. We are trapped.”

  “Worse than that,” frowned the colonel. “The whole 8th Corps and 12th Corps are trapped. General Pryblick will be furious.”

  “I could send a rider to get him to turn around right now,” offered the squad leader.

  Colonel Dukirk glanced up at the sun and shook his head. “It is too late for that. The vanguard is already on the narrowest stretch of road. General Pryblick will not encamp the army there. He will continue on to the wider area for the army to settle in for the night. We have just lost two days out of the five allotted to us to reach Tagaret.”

  “And then what?” asked the squad leader. “How are we supposed to get to Tagaret?”

  “That is something that we will have to get the locals to tell us,” answered the colonel. “I suspect that we will return to the main road tomorrow and march south into Danver Shores. General Pryblick will take his wrath out on the local population until they tell him the shortest route to Tagaret. It will not be a pretty sight to behold. He may literally destroy the entire city.”

  Chapter 29

  Fire and Water

  General Ruppert rode in the vanguard of Team Elmor as the long column of Federation soldiers stretched out along the road under Hun-lo Heights. It was his fifth day in Alcea, and he was troubled by the total lack of natives. During their journey, they had not seen a single Lanoirian, and that struck the general as far too odd for coincidence.

  “Something is wrong, Mayne,” the general said to the colonel riding alongside him. “I could easily understand not running into some locals when the road passed through fields of grain or forests. The few people in the area might have been off tending to crops or keeping out of the forests for some reason, but this section of the journey is nothing but road. Surely, we should have come across a stray merchant or some travelers heading to a distant city, but we have not. What was this section of road like last fall when you visited here?”

  The colonel did not respond, and the general glanced at him. Colonel Mayne was staring at the wall of the cliff as if in a daze. General Ruppert reached out and touched the other officer. The colonel started and turned his face towards the general.

  “What intrigues you so about a stone wall?” questioned the general. “You did not even hear me talking to you.”

  “I apologize, General. I guess I was lost in my thoughts.”

  “So you were,” the general replied with a touch of disappointment in his voice. “You need to remember that we are in hostile territory. Stay alert.”

  The colonel nodded, his eyes flickering towards the wall again. “What were you saying?”

  “I was remarking about the total lack of people in this country. Didn’t you say that Lanoir was very populous?”

  “It is, General. Lanoir has more people than all of the other Alcean provinces combined.”

  “Then where are they?” inquired the general. “We have been on this road for five days now, and we have not seen one single person.”

  “That is strange,” agreed the colonel, “but it is springtime. Lanoir is an agricultural country. I suspect the people are all out in the fields.”

  “All of them?” balked the general. “That is preposterous. Where are the merchants? The everyday travelers? The army patrols? Are there no messengers or couriers?”

  The colonel frowned. “The portals were appropriately placed specifically to avoid people, but I agree. We should have seen at least a few people on the trip.” The colonel’s eyes flickered to the wall again, and the general noticed.

  “What is the distraction that keeps dividing your attention?” demanded the general.

  “The pipe,” the colonel replied without taking his eyes off of it. “It was not here last fall, and I cannot figure out what it is for. Who would run a pipe along the cliff face league after league? And for what purpose?”

  “Perhaps it is for drainage of some kind,” the general replied dismissively. “Keep focused on the greater problem. Can you think of any reason for the lack of people on this road?”

  Suddenly, hundreds of tiny pops echoed along the road and a clear liquid began leaking out of the bamboo pipe. The general stared at the leaky pipe and then raised his eyes skyward. There was not a cloud in the sky, and his brow creased in confusion. He looked back down at the road and stared at the quickly spreading liquid.

  “Do they irrigate the fields on top of these cliffs?” he asked the colonel.

  “I do not know,” confessed the colonel as he watched the liquid covering the road. “I have never been up there. I suppose it is possible.” Colonel Mayne’s eyes followed the spreading liquid. They focused on the ocean side of the road where a small berm stopped the liquid from flowing into the sea. He shook his head in confusion. “I do not recall seeing that berm last fall,” he remarked. “It seems foolish to have such an obstruction to drainage on a coastal road.”

  “This is not water flooding the road!” the general said with alarm. “Smell it!”

  The colonel sniffed the air. His brow creased with alarm. “Lamp oil? That makes no sense.”

  “It is not lamp oil,” the general replied as he stood up in his stirrups and looked back along the column, “but your guess is close enough.” The general turned his head and gazed forward. The road before the column was already flooded and he nodded with understanding. “Head towards the rear!” he ordered the colonel. “Let everyone know that they must be ready to evacuate the road at a moment’s notice. If you reach a point where the road is not flooded, turn the column around and move them to safety as quickly as you can. This trap is meant to destroy Team Elmor.”

  The colonel blinked in confusion. He opened his mouth to ask a question, but the general had already spurred his horse to action. As the general raced forward, he called to the cavalry in the vanguard to follow him. The colonel turned his horse and raced towards the rear of the column.

  As General Ruppert and the cavalry around him raced along the coastal road, their horses kicked up the volatile liquid creating a pungent mist that permeated the uniforms of the soldiers. The general’s eyes flicked from the leaking pipe to the road ahead. That was when he saw the solitary figure in the distance. The man sat astride a large horse, and he held a flaming torch high above his head. The general’s brow immediately broke out in a cold sweat as he understood what was about to happen.

  “Into the sea!” shouted General Ruppert. “Into the sea!”

  The general pulled hard on the reins, forcing his mount to the right. It was not a graceful exit from the r
oad, but the general cared little for horsemanship at that point. As his horse leaped for the sea, the general watched the torch hit the road. A wall of flame rose half way up the cliff face and raced towards the soldiers of Team Elmor. It was the last thing he saw before he hit the water. His horse must have landed unevenly because the general found himself propelled out of the saddle and dunked under the water.

  * * * *

  Colonel Mayne raced towards the rear of the column shouting the general’s orders. He had made it almost as far as the center of the column before screams and shouts behind him forced him to turn around and gaze towards the vanguard. His eyes widened in fear as he saw a wall of flame racing towards him. Outlined by the wall of fire in the distance, silhouettes of Federation soldiers could be seen leaping into the sea. Like a rippling wave, the column of men ran towards the small berm and dove into the water. With only seconds before the firestorm hit, Colonel Mayne turned his horse towards the berm and kicked it savagely. The horse refused to cooperate. Instead, it reared up on its hind legs. The colonel jumped off his horse, nearly colliding with the nearby black-cloaks. As he ran to the berm and dove into the water, he was vaguely aware of bowstrings snapping somewhere nearby, but he had no time to worry about such things. His body sliced into the water.

  When the colonel surfaced, he was in a sea of bobbing heads. His feet could not touch the bottom, and he thought of abandoning his gear, but as he turned back towards the road, he saw some of the Federation soldiers standing waist deep in water. Beyond them was the burning inferno of the coastal road. The colonel struggled towards the shore, his legs scrapping along a submerged shelf. He crawled up onto the shelf and rose to his feet. The heat of the flames was searing, but the colonel was grateful for a place to stand. Screams of agony rose above the roar of the massive flames, and the colonel turned his attention to the devastation on the road. Burning corpses of men who had not been quick enough to flee the flames littered the road, as did abandoned horses. As his eyes roved over the carnage, he saw the remains of the black-cloaks. He wondered why they had not issued spells to protect themselves from the fire.