General Barbone gazed into the Sordoan’s eyes as if trying to gauge the amount of truth in the words spoken. He sighed anxiously and looked away.
“What would you do if we did surrender?” asked the general.
“We already have camps set up for your men,” answered the governor. “They will be fed and cared for until the end of hostilities. When the war is over, they will be sent back to their homes.”
“That is just unbelievable,” frowned the general. “No one treats a conquered enemy that way. More likely, you will enslave my men. I give you credit for making such statements with a believable tone, but your words are absurd.”
“You truly do not know your enemy, General,” the governor said without malice. “I am a Sordoan, subjugated by the Alcean king. Do I look enslaved to you? In my early days as a soldier, words such as mine would have been unbelievable to my ears as well, so I know what you are thinking, but you do not understand King Arik. He has made loyal subjects out of all of his enemies.”
“I cannot imagine such a thing,” the general said with a shake of his head. “It is outlandish.”
“I know,” smiled the general, “but he is an outlandish king. I remember the day I first met him. I was defending Trekum against an army of one-hundred-thousand Lanoirians. They had us in a siege and there was no escape from it. King Arik rode into the city to speak to me. I laughed when he told me who he was, because the story was so outlandish, but he proved it to me. I have never doubted his word since.”
“I know of no king whose word can be trusted,” retorted General Barbone. “I only believe in what I can see and feel. When you can prove your words, we will talk again.”
“If proof is what you need,” shrugged the governor, “then proof you shall have. Will it make a difference if you learn the true fate of the other teams? Will you surrender then?”
“General Omirro is team leader,” replied General Barbone. “It is his decision to surrender or fight.”
“Do the lives of the men of the 22nd Corps not matter to you? Do you consign their fate to the whims of an Ertakan?”
“That is harsh,” scowled the general. “My men matter a great deal to me, but I am only a participant in a team effort. It is Omirro who leads this team.”
“You are a general of an army,” countered the governor, “and you are responsible for the welfare of your men. That is not a responsibility that you can consign to others, whether it be a team leader or even a king. If you are not prepared to stand for them, you should resign and let them be led by one who will stand for them.”
The governor turned his horse and rode away. General Barbone watched him leave, a frown clouding the Spinoan’s face. He felt as if his father had just given him a stern lecture, yet the Sordoan was no older than the general was. He shook his head and turned his horse to return to his troops.
* * * *
Four arrows streaked out of the trees alongside the Barouk-Ongchi Road, and four Federation soldiers of the 25th Corps of Aerta fell to the ground. Howls of outrage sounded throughout the column, and a Federation captain disobeyed his orders.
“Kill them!” shouted the captain as he raised his sword and charged into the woods.
The entire company followed their captain, although many of the men were weary and afraid. One-hundred soldiers ran into the forest, shouts of revenge ripping from their throats. The shouted war cries only helped to cover the sounds of snapping bowstrings as the Lanoirians fired without mercy. Within seconds the shouting died, replaced with the moans of the wounded.
Colonel Potter of the 25th Corps raced along the road and halted in the gap in the column created by the absence of an entire company. He gazed into the forest and shook his head in disgust. The captain of the next company in the column halted when he reached the colonel. The colonel turned and glared at him.
“How many times must I tell you not to leave the road?” he bellowed.
“My company is still here,” retorted the captain, “but just barely. The men will not stand for being used as targets, Colonel. If they are going to die, they want to at least engage the enemy.”
“And die like them?” the colonel shouted as he pointed towards the woods. “The Lanoirians are trying to get us to do exactly what that fool did. The next captain that defies my orders will die by my own sword.”
The captain opened his mouth to retort, but the colonel’s rage made him think better of speaking his mind.
“And close up the gap in the column,” shouted the colonel.
Colonel Potter stepped off the road to let the column pass by. He stared into the woods, hoping to see some of the ambushed men straggle out of the trees. After a while, he sighed with despair as the forest remained silent. With determination, he turned and started running towards the front of the column. As he passed by the column, he sharply reminded each captain of the need to stay on the road. Eventually he reached the vanguard of the 25th Corps, but General Gertz was not there. He was informed that the general had gone forward to speak with General Kolling. Colonel Potter continued forward. Eventually, he ran into Colonel Ednor of the 9th Corps of the Empire of Barouk. The Baroukan colonel looked at his Aertan counterpart and frowned. He waved Colonel Potter to his side and urged him to walk for a while.
“What brings you forward?” asked Colonel Ednor.
“The Lanoirian sniping,” answered Colonel Potter. “We just lost another company. Something must be done about it.”
“Another company?” questioned the Baroukan colonel. “Are the Lanoirians staging attacks on the column?”
“They are sniping the column,” answered Colonel Potter. “They are trying to provoke a reaction, and they are succeeding. I have lost two companies already, and the rest of the men are ready to surge into the forest at the slightest provocation. The snipers must be killed.”
“General Kolling remains adamant on the subject,” replied Colonel Ednor. “We are to ignore the sniping.”
“It cannot be ignored,” Colonel Potter scowled, his voice rising in anger. “The men are being killed as they march along the road. Doesn’t the general know what that can do to morale? It is the mentality of retreat. The men feel as if we are a broken army.”
Colonel Ednor sighed and nodded. “I understand,” he said calmly, “but the Lanoirians seek to delay us. The city of Ongchi stands before us, undefended. General Kolling is determined to seize the city before the Lanoirians can rally to defend it. If that means losing a few men to sniping, it is a small price to pay.”
“Unless you are one of those men,” spat the Aertan colonel. “Perhaps if it were your companies falling to their deaths you might look at things differently, but that is not the case. It is Aertans dying to the snipers, not Baroukans. If you will excuse me, I need to speak to General Gertz.”
The Aertan colonel ran forward. Colonel Ednor frowned as he watched his fellow officer leave, the man’s departing words bouncing through his mind. He wondered if the Lanoirians were clever enough to concentrate their attacks on the Aertans simply to feed a rivalry that already existed between the two Zaran nations. With that thought in his mind, he started running after the Aertan colonel. When they eventually reached the generals, they found them in the vanguard, which had halted at the edge of a large, open valley.
Colonel Ednor was puzzled by the halt in the column. He gazed down into the valley and saw nothing alarming. As his eyes followed the road up the opposite hill, he saw mounds of dirt indicative of trenches just below the ridge. He nodded in understanding as he walked over to where the generals were talking.
“We need to know their strength before attacking,” stated General Gertz. “We have no idea what we are facing.”
“We are facing the remnants of the small force that attacked our rear,” scoffed General Kolling. “There can’t be more than a thousand of them up there. This is another of their feeble attempts to slow us down. We will smash our way through their crude defenses and march over their corpses. They will not slo
w this army down.”
“They are already slowing us down,” countered General Gertz. “This column is stopped. By the time the rear gathers here for the attack, we will have lost half a day.”
“I do not need the Aertans to break through this rabble of an army,” scowled General Kolling. “Your men can continue to leisurely stroll along the road.”
“Leisurely stroll along the road?” Colonel Potter echoed with outrage. “We Aertans are dying while you Baroukans march in safety.”
General Kolling whirled angrily towards the Aertan colonel.
“If you can’t control your men under march, Colonel,” scowled the Baroukan general, “then General Gertz ought to replace you with someone who can. The loss of a few men is insignificant in the grand scheme of things.”
“I am not talking about a few men,” retorted Colonel Potter. “We have lost over three-hundred men today to snipers, and the day isn’t even half over.”
General Kolling turned to General Gertz, his face red with rage. “Handle your men, Gertz,” he snapped. “I do not have time for petty grievances.”
The Baroukan general walked away from the Aertans, signaling for Colonel Ednor to follow him. The colonel promptly obeyed and the two officers stood on the ridgeline in the center of the road.
“The main prong of the attack will be straight up the road,” declared General Kolling. “I want eight regiments to race across the valley and overwhelm the trenches. The other two regiments are to outflank the enemy, one to the north and one to the south. I want this battle over as quickly as possible.”
“You were serious then about leaving the Aertans out of this?” inquired Colonel Ednor.
“I am serious,” replied the general. “I cannot tolerate the whining of the Aertans. They think going to war should be as safe as marching along the roads of the Federation. Well that is not how life is. Besides, we do not need them for this. Let Gertz spend some time with his men teaching them about the realities of war. Before he is done with his speech, we will be on the other side of those trenches resuming the march to Ongchi.”
* * * *
Above and beyond the trench that General Kolling was planning to attack, the remnants of Colonel Wu-sang’s Lanoirian army prepared for a defiant stand. Determined to block the Federation’s drive to Ongchi, the volunteers vowed to fight to the death.
Rut-ki stood in the forest gazing at the back side of a huge ring of abatis. The tall trees had been felled with precision, with their dense branches facing outward. The resulting bulwarks presented an impenetrable fortress just back from the ridge and unseen from the opposite hill. Just beneath where she was standing was a crude tunnel, and she quickly glanced in its direction as a man came crawling through it.
“We are through,” announced the Lanoirian soldier.
Colonel Wu-sang came running from where he had been informing his men about the plan. He halted alongside Rut-ki and watched the soldier rise from the dirt.
“Is it wide enough for even the largest man?” asked the colonel.
“It will do,” answered the soldier. “It will be a tight fit, and the going will be slow, but the men should be able to make it through if they have time to enter the tunnel.”
“Time will be short,” frowned Rut-ki. “You must know that all of the men will not survive. A lone tunnel will not allow enough time for them to escape.”
“The men know this,” nodded the colonel. “Those manning the trench volunteered for the duty, and they did so when they thought the tunnel would not even be completed in time. They are determined to avenge the deaths of their comrades and prevent the enemy from reaching Ongchi.”
The Knight of Alcea nodded sadly. “What about the Federation flankers?”
“We do not have enough men to defend against both flanking movements, but we can harass them. Elandros and his elves will take the northern flank and our cavalry will take the southern flank. The rest is up to the gods.”
“May they smile upon us,” Rut-ki replied solemnly. “The Battle of Lizard Hill will be a bloody landmark in the history of Alcea. Let us hope that it buys General Za-hong the time he needs.”
* * * *
The Federation armies of Team Mya remained in camp even as the sun climbed high in the sky. Inside the large command tent, the ten colonels of the 2nd Corps of the Empire of Barouk gathered to mark the passing of General Fortella. The mood was one of anger, not only for the death of the Baroukan general, but also for the hesitancy of General Whitman to break camp.
“He isn’t holding camp to mourn General Fortella,” complained one of the colonels. “He is afraid to march on Tagaret.”
“I heard that the assassin entered Whitman’s tent,” added another colonel. “Why is he still alive?”
“Maybe the assassin worked for Whitman,” another colonel proposed with a scowl.
“That is nonsense,” declared Colonel Tamora. “Whitman is holding camp because he is afraid to engage the Alceans. We all have heard the stories of the Aertan’s cowardice. We do not need to look for conspiracies to understand his fear of breaking camp.”
“Well,” replied a colonel, “there is a surefire way to break that logjam. One of us needs to be elevated in rank to replace General Fortella. Whitman will have to fall in line then.”
“There is no precedent for colonels deciding who is to become general,” stated Colonel Tamora. “That is for Grand General Kyrga to decide.”
“There is no precedent for Baroukans serving under an Aertan general, either,” scowled one of the colonels. “We cannot expect Grand General Kyrga to come to Alcea to promote one of us. The leadership of the 2nd Corps is in our hands. Now, we can all squabble over who should get the promotion, but I think we need to be united in this, otherwise, General Whitman will object. As much as I want to be general, just like the rest of you, I think it is safe to say that General Fortella had been grooming Tamora for the promotion. I am willing to accept that. What say the rest of you?”
There were murmurs and grumbles for a few minutes, but the colonels eventually nodded in agreement. Colonel Tamora was congratulated and sent to confront General Whitman. He marched out of the large command tent and into the smaller one. The Aertan general looked up anxiously as the Baroukan colonel entered the tent, almost as if he knew the reason for the visit.
“I am assuming command of the 2nd Corps,” Colonel Tamora announced.
“You have no authority to do so,” replied General Whitman. “With the death of General Fortella, I am now the leader of Team Mya and Force Targa. The 2nd Corps will fall under my command.”
“The 2nd Corps is Baroukan,” argued the colonel. “We are to be led by one of our countrymen. The other colonels selected me for the promotion.”
“Selected you?” scoffed the general. “Colonels do not select their generals any more than they can select which orders to obey. You are a member of Team Mya, and as such, you are under my command. You will hold whatever rank I determine you are capable of holding, and you will execute whatever orders I give you. To do otherwise is mutiny, and we both know the punishment for such an offense. Have I made myself clear, Colonel?”
“You have made your views known, General,” snapped the colonel, “but the 2nd Corps is not going to stand around this encampment and wait for the Alcean armies to arrive. Team Mya was tasked to attack Tagaret. Why are we not doing so?”
“You will not question my orders again, Colonel,” the general said threateningly. “This team will move when I order it to do so. You are dismissed.”
The colonel opened his mouth to speak, but the general rose to his feet and angrily pointed towards the tent flap.
“Dismissed!” General Whitman bellowed.
Colonel Tamora pivoted and marched out of the tent. He stormed into the large command tent and told the assembled colonels what had transpired.
“That is unacceptable,” snarled one of the colonels. “I will not be led by an Aertan, and I will not be led by a coward.”
<
br /> “You are repeating yourself,” one of the colonels said with a mischievous grin as he held out his fist. In his fist were ten splinters of wood, but only the ends were visible. “I expected such a response, and our path is quite clear to me. The short splinter gets the pleasure of killing the cowardly Aertan.”
Chapter 42
Lizard Hill
The hill got its name from the locals who thought it looked like a giant lizard. The ridgeline of Lizard Hill was long and narrow with the tail end tapering off to the south. The northern extreme of the hill had a slight notch in the ridgeline, which separated a small portion of the hill from the larger part of it. The small portion was dubbed the head, and the notch was called the neck. The ridges of the head and the body of Lizard Hill were well forested, but the neck was treeless. The slopes of Lizard Hill, like most of the hills in the area, were bare, a testament to the erosion-prone terrain. A small trench ran half the length of the body just below the ridgeline with the road bisecting it, and it was on that trench that the Federation focused their efforts. At the sound of a whistle, eight thousand Federation soldiers poured out of the trees and ran down the hillside and into the valley. Across the valley, the Lanoirians watched anxiously as the valley began filling with red uniforms.
Tzu-chan was the best archer under the command of Colonel Wu-sang, and he had been chosen to start the defense of Lizard Hill. None of the other Lanoirians would fire their arrows until Tzu-chan had fired one first. From the center of the long trench, Tzu-chan watched the approaching horde without emotion. As the Zarans spread out in the valley and approached the base of Lizard Hill’s slope, Tzu-chan strung his bow and pulled a handful of arrows out of his quiver. He calmly planted the arrows on the top of the trench wall and chose one to start the defense. He mechanically nocked the arrow as he watched the enemy’s progress. When the first of the Zaran invaders reached the limit of Tzu-chan’s range, the Lanoirian archer pulled back his arrow and let it fly. The arrow sailed downward and caught a Zaran firmly in the chest, the red-clad soldier falling backward and tumbling down the hill into those charging up the hill behind him. Within seconds, hundreds of arrows flew from the trench and rained down upon the Federation soldiers. The red-clad bodies flowed down the slope just like the mud did in the rainy season, but the Zarans were too numerous. The Federation soldiers leaped over the bodies tumbling down the hillside and continued their assault up the side of the hill. Within mere minutes, it became obvious that the Zarans would easily overrun the Lanoirian trench. There were just too many of them for the Lanoirians to keep them at bay.
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