Alutar: The Great Demon

by Tuttle, Richard S.

  “We have been ordered to close the portals on the other side of the valley,” Cirrus explained. “Twenty-four of you are to fly westward and accomplish that mission. The rest of you are to fly over the Barrier and attack the dwarves on the other end of the tunnel. Do whatever you must to get those shields down.”

  Cirrus proceeded to count off his mages and assign them to their tasks. When the men were assigned, he watched them climb onto a ledge to transform and take to the air.

  The birds flying westward paired off and then spread out so that one pair headed for each of the twelve western portals. The northernmost pair of birds headed for door number one, the first portal to Carid in Cordonia. The mages knew the locations of the portals, but they could not see the door when they arrived in the area. The floodwaters were already so high that the doors were underwater. The only things extending out of the flood were the tall trees of the forest. The birds circled trying to locate the actual doors. As they flew past one of the large trees, two arrows flew from within the branches of the trees. Both birds immediately transformed into their human forms and fell to the waters below.

  “Good shooting, dwarves,” chirped Dew. “Should I levitate you to safety now?”

  “Not yet,” answered Frack. “They might send another pair when these two don’t return.”

  “Right,” agreed Rik. “We will stay here until the water starts to rise up to us. Make sure you don’t fall asleep, fairy. I don’t want to have to swim to the side of the mountain.”

  “I have already slept enough waiting for this moment,” quipped the fairy. “I will stay right here until you are ready.”

  * * * *

  On the eastern peaks of the hidden valley, dwarven archers stood ready for the expected flight of birds. When the starlings did arrive, they came en masse, but the archers did not let a single one of them pass over the peaks. Black-cloak bodies dropped from the sky and smashed onto the rugged crags below. The whole exercise was over in moments, and the dwarves settled back down in case another flock attempted the same maneuver.

  “One of those birds did not turn into a human when I shot it,” worried one of the dwarven archers. “Do you think it is still alive?”

  “That one was a pigeon,” laughed a fellow dwarf. “It probably just chose the wrong time to take to the sky. Don’t worry about it. I saw it hit the rocks below. It is dead.”

  * * * *

  General Tauman stood on a rock ledge, the water lapping at his feet. He watched in horror as his men tried to stay afloat. Some of them tried to cling to the face of the mountain, but the waves that rolled in dashed the men against the rocks. The berm he ordered constructed had never been completed before the rising waters made it a pointless exercise. The tunnel was now completely underwater and his men were discarding their weapons so that the weight would not drag them down. Hundreds of his men had started scaling the sides of the mountain, but only one of his regiments had any real skill in mountain climbing. He had hoped that some of them could cross the mountain peaks and attack the dwarves, but he soon discarded such optimism when one of his men fell to his death with an arrow in his chest. It appeared that the dwarves also held the high ground and escape over the peaks was merely an illusion. He watched in dismay as the finest fighting force in the Federation was reduced to men treading water in hopes that the rising floodwaters would reverse course. The general knew that was not going to happen, and he watched as man after man went under and did not surface again.

  General Tauman shook his head at the absurdity of it all. The Alceans had struck brilliantly. They had managed to annihilate the 1st Corps without incurring a single casualty. The only consolation for General Tauman was the message he had gotten off to Despair. That message would turn the tide against the Alceans when they tried to consolidate the countries west of the Barrier. General Tauman only wished he would be around to see it.

  The general of the 1st Corps looked down again at his diminishing army. Soldiers grabbed onto anything that would float, but there was not much available. He cursed softly as he felt the water rising over his own knees and knew that he would soon be floundering with the rest of the men. He thought briefly of climbing the side of the mountain and at least going out with a fight, but to scale a mountain with archers above you was even more futile than trying to stay afloat. He removed his sheath and tossed it into the water. Next he removed his boots. He did not want any unnecessary weight for the long swim he had in mind. He knew that his path to safety was a long shot, but he figured that if he could reach the mountainside in an area away from the tunnel, he might be able to slip past the dwarven archers above him. After he removed all extraneous weight, the general dove into the turbulent water and began swimming southward. The general was a strong swimmer, but even he had trouble making headway in the flood. The turbulence caused by the water smashing into the mountainside created a confused sea, and the debris upon the water was annoying. Most of the debris was cloth or bodies and neither was desirable for a flotation device.

  General Tauman became alarmed when he was just past the area where he knew the tunnel was, although he could not see the entrance. It was already underwater. What alarmed the general was that his headway halted instantly, almost as if he had run into a wall, but that was not the case. He frowned as he realized that the flow of the water had suddenly changed, and a strong current was pulling him backward. Try as he might, he could not overpower the current tugging him towards the tunnel area. He turned around to see what was causing the change, and he gasped. A whirlpool had formed over the mouth of the tunnel. Men and debris were being sucked downward, and suddenly the general knew that he was going to die. The dwarves had unblocked the exit to the tunnel, and he was about to be sucked into an enormous drain.

  * * * *

  Colonel Pfaff knocked on the door to King Daramoor’s office. The king gave permission to enter, and the colonel entered the office ushering Edmond Mercado in with him.

  “King Daramoor,” Colonel Pfaff said formally, “may I present Edmond Mercado? He is a merchant of some renown.”

  “I am very familiar with the Mercado family,” King Daramoor replied. “What is the purpose of your visit, Edmond?”

  “Colonel Pfaff asked me if I had seen anyone that might be associated with the rebels,” Edmond replied. “In fact, I have.”

  “Get Nazzaro, Pfaff,” ordered the king. “Have a seat, Edmond. I would like General Nazzaro to hear what you have to say, so we will wait until he arrives.”

  Only a few moments passed before Colonel Pfaff returned with General Nazzaro. The two officers moved to stand near the king desk so that they could listen to Edmond’s report. The king nodded to the merchant to begin.

  “I have just traveled down the Lombardi Road,” Edmond began. “About one day’s ride from here, I came across an unusual sight. I am sure you remember the days before Vinafor joined the Federation, King Daramoor. The West Woods were home to bandits of every stripe, but since joining the Federation, I have never seen a bandit along the Lombardi Road, so I was quite concerned when my caravan ran into a large group of armed men. My warriors prepared to defend the wagons, but it proved to be unnecessary. The leader of the armed men approached and questioned me about my business. When they learned who I was, they invited the caravan to camp with them for the night. I declined, of course, but not before I had a chance to measure their numbers. It is a large army, King Daramoor.”

  “How large?” asked General Nazzaro.

  “I saw around five hundred men,” answered the merchant, “and they were well armed. There wasn’t a man there that I wouldn’t have considered for a caravan warrior if I were in need. I think they are probably men who used to serve in the Vinaforan army. In fact, I am pretty sure of it. I recognized some of their faces, although I can’t place names to them, but I am sure I have seen them patrolling the streets of Waxhaw in days gone by.”

  “Could you identify any of them?” asked Colonel Pfaff. “Did you recognize the leader?�
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  “The leader went by the name of General Blackmoor,” answered Edmund.

  “Blackmoor?” spat the king. “There is no General Blackmoor and there never has been.”

  “I am sure that I have seen him before,” frowned Edmund. “Twice in fact. Once was here in Waxhaw the night of Lady Ferini’s party, and the other time was at Ramaldi Pass. He wore the uniform of a Vinaforan general on each occasion and some of the soldiers seemed to know him.”

  “Which way were they heading?” asked General Nazzaro. “Could you tell?”

  “They were camped when I saw them,” answered Edmund. “I am not sure that they were heading anywhere. The camp appeared to be rather permanent.”

  “Could you find their camp again?” asked Colonel Pfaff.

  “Certainly,” Edmund nodded. “I know every pace of the Lombardi Road. I travel it often enough.”

  “What are you thinking, Pfaff?” scowled the general. “We are at half strength already. We can’t be going out of the city to fight rebels.”

  “Yes, we can,” retorted the colonel. “This is exactly the break we have been waiting for. Finally, we know exactly where the rebels are. We cannot afford to let this opportunity pass us by.”

  “We cannot afford to leave Waxhaw defenseless,” countered the general. “We will wait until the 1st Corps arrives.”

  “The rebels would not be foolish enough to stay in one place that long,” argued the colonel. “This is not a chance to be thrown away. We can end the threat from the rebels with a single battle. Give me two thousand cavalry, and I will lead the attack myself. The rebels must be destroyed.”

  “Leaving me with only three thousand men,” the general pointed out. “I do not feel comfortable with this.”

  Colonel Pfaff sighed and shook his head. “It really is up to King Daramoor,” he stated, “but I think crushing them when we have the chance is worth the risk. If they are a day’s ride out of the city, they can hardly attack Waxhaw with my cavalry between them and the city. What do you say, King Daramoor?”

  “I want General Blackmoor captured and brought to me,” demanded the king. “If it takes two thousand men to do that then you shall have them.” Turning towards General Nazzaro, the king continued, “Give Pfaff what he needs. I want those rebels dead.”

  Chapter 18

  Truth Revealed

  Five hundred Federation soldiers gathered in the warehouse of Sidney Mercado in Waxhaw as their orders had demanded. The soldiers were all members of the 31st Corps, but they were not men from any particular unit. They were varied in rank, and their membership was spread across all regiments of the army. While each man knew a secret about at least one of the other men, none of the soldiers realized why the assemblage was so special. When the last invited soldier had arrived, caravan warriors closed the large warehouse doors, leaving the cavernous room of the warehouse dimly lit by torches. The soldiers did not speak. Indeed, they had been ordered not to speak. They stood around in ignorance wondering what was going to happen, an eerie silence pervading the large room. Somewhere upstairs a door opened and footsteps could be heard approaching the top of the wooden staircase. All eyes rose to see Colonel Pfaff escorting a merchant down the long flight of stairs. The two men descended to a landing only five steps above the floor of the main room. There the colonel halted, but the merchant bent down and picked up a box, one of four sitting on the landing, and continued down to the floor. He opened the box and stepped away from it.

  “Soldiers of the 31st Corps,” Colonel Pfaff said, his voice not overly loud, but sufficient to be heard by all, “this is an historic moment in the history of Vinafor. In the box that Edmund just placed on the floor are five hundred lavender scarves, one for each of you. Quickly and quietly procure one and tie it around your neck and then form ranks. Time is short, so do not dally.”

  The soldiers moved efficiently with no shoving or chaos, and in moments they stood in formation, wearing their lavender scarves. Colonel Pfaff nodded in approval as he stared down at his men. When the warehouse was silent once more, he snapped his fingers, a simple sound that shot through the warehouse with clarity. Once again, footsteps sounded from the floor above, and the eyes of the soldiers rose to see who was coming. When a figure appeared at the top of the stares, involuntary gasps echoed through the warehouse. To a man, the five hundred soldiers dropped to one knee and bowed their heads. Queen Romani smiled and walked down the stairs. When she reached the landing, Colonel Pfaff bowed to the queen and then stepped down to the floor of the warehouse.

  “Rise, patriots of Vinafor,” the queen said to the assembled soldiers. She waited while the soldiers rose. “The time has come to restore Vinafor to its proper place in the world. It is time to throw off the shackles of the Federation. You men are about to take the first step in that fight, and I wanted to be here to wish you well. I understand that most of you were unaware that the others were also patriots. For that I must congratulate Colonel Pfaff. He has been my voice in Vinafor since the day I left this country. You may know him as Crusher, but you will soon be addressing him as General Pfaff.”

  Queen Romani paused to let her eyes scan the faces of the patriots before her. Her smile seemed to be directed to each soldier personally, and Colonel Pfaff could tell where the queen was looking merely by observing the faces of the soldiers. His own lips parted in a broad smile as a tingle of excitement raced up his spine.

  “Tomorrow you men will be called into battle,” the queen continued. “It will be the first battle of the Vinaforan Revolution. Hopefully, it will also be the last, but we cannot let down our guard just yet. Until the Federation army is defeated and Daramoor swings from a post, all Vinaforan patriots will be in danger. The need for secrecy is still present, and I hope that my visit here today does not lessen your resolve to reveal nothing to our enemies, but I would have felt negligent not to come to wish you well. May the gods watch over each and every one of you during the battles to come.”

  After a short period of silence as the queen once again reviewed the troops, she turned and ascended the stairs. The soldiers knelt and bowed their heads until they heard a door close upstairs. Colonel Pfaff had taken that time to regain his place on the landing.

  “All right, men,” the colonel said as the men rose to their feet. “This visit will not be spoken of until we live in a free Vinafor once again. You merely assembled here to hear me speak and collect your scarves. Do not lose those lavender scarves. They identify you as a patriot to other forces that may be helping us. You are dismissed for the better part of an hour. We will assemble near the northern gates at that time.”

  With a wave of the colonel’s hand, the caravan warriors opened the rear doors of the warehouse, letting in the bright sunshine of the early morning. The soldiers filed out of the warehouse, and when they were gone, the front doors of the warehouse opened. Already the next group of five hundred soldiers was on the way towards the warehouse for an unexplained meeting, but their reception would be slightly different. Colonel Pfaff would give a simple pep talk and then hand out scarves for the men to wear into battle. The scarves, however, would not be lavender. In the boxes at the colonel’s feet were scarves of green, blue, and white. Colonel Pfaff would eventually use the colors of the scarves to segment his small army, intentionally making the lavender scarves the rear guard.

  * * * *

  The men of the A Corps were camped alongside the Lombardi Road in Vinafor. As dawn lightened the sky, they rose and ate. As soon as the meal was devoured, they started breaking camp. General Forshire emerged from his tent with Colonel Hardi and Colonel Magee at his side. The colonels called for the men to assemble on the Lombardi Road and everyone dropped what they were doing and complied. General Forshire mounted his horse so that all of the men would be able to see him. He rode slightly south of camp and then turned around to face his men.

  “Men of the A Corps,” the general said loudly, “we have arrived at a crucial moment in our short history together. Tomorrow t
he A Crops will enter into battle. I know that many of you men are eager to prove your newfound prowess, but I suspect that some of you will not be joining me.”

  Shouts of denial filled the air, but the general waved his hand dismissively.

  “Listen before you speak,” General Forshire admonished his men. “Before I say what needs to be said, let me tell you what a pleasure it has been mentoring each of you. You have turned into the elite army that we pretended to be at one time. I am proud of each of you, but there is a truth about me that you must be made aware of before you choose to die in my service. I know that many of you are confused and curious about me and the actions I have taken. I will explain everything to you now, but before I do, let me tell you the future of the A Corps.”

  Clint paused to gather his thoughts as he gazed at the men before him. He sighed deeply and continued, “Tomorrow the A Corps is going to attack a portion of the 31st Corps. We will be doing this to aid in the liberation of Vinafor from the Federation. While you men have proved that you are loyal to me, I can not order you to fight against an enemy that some of you may consider to be your fellow countrymen. In a moment, I will offer each of you a chance to leave the Federation army. Any man who chooses to leave will receive a formal discharge with honors. You will have every right to return to your homes, having fulfilled your obligation to the Federation.”

  The men of the A Corps began to fidget and soft whispers raced through the assemblage. General Forshire ignored the whispers and continued, “There have been many rumors running through the A Corps as to who I am and where my loyalties lie. I will now put all of those rumors to rest. My real name is Clint McFarren, and I am an Alcean Ranger. I was part of a small group sent here over a year ago to spy on the Federation. Our goal was to learn as much as we could about the Federation’s plans to invade our homeland. In the course of our mission, the ship to take us home was destroyed. At that moment, our mission changed. We began to attack the Federation here in Zara, starting with the destruction of the Federation fleet under the shadow of the Pyres. We destroyed the Giza shipyards, and as some of you already know, we freed the elven children from the reeducation shelters. We also helped the Dielderal to escape from the Elfwoods. I am telling you all of this so you better understand who you have been serving.”