Alutar: The Great Demon

by Tuttle, Richard S.

  “A couple of days would waste a great deal of time,” frowned the general. “If we are indeed going to be attacked, preparations must be made immediately.”

  “Oh?” retorted Natia. “What proof do you have of an impending invasion? You are quick to believe my words when it suits you, General, but you seem to pick and choose which words you will believe. That is unacceptable. If you start to make preparations to repel an attack, you will have forfeited any chance you might have of getting rid of the 33rd Corps, and that will result in a definite attack on Giza. Is that truly what you want?”

  “General,” Colonel Fisker interrupted gently, “I have known Natia for a long time, and her words have always been proven right. If two days of my time will save the lives of my fellow Aertans, I am more than willing to take the chance. Give me leave to go with her.”

  General Antero sat silently for a while and then sighed and nodded. “Go, Fisker,” he said softly, “but I will make preparations to defend this city while you are gone. I feel confident that I can do so without alerting the 33rd Corps. Waste no time,” he warned. “It is nearly high sun now. At high sun two days from today I will no longer feel bound to remain quiet.”

  Colonel Fisker saluted and escorted Natia out of the Royal Palace. He told Natia to get ready for the trip and that he would meet her at the stables of the Palace Keep Inn. They parted company and Natia hurried to the stables where Tedi was waiting for her.

  “We have little time to talk,” Natia said quickly. “I am taking Colonel Fisker to meet with King Arik. General Antero has refused to push the 33rd Corps out of the city for now, but I think he is pliable. The danger lies in General Hedstorus discovering the coming attack. Get together with Headman and Azara as soon as you can. See if you can find a way to get the 33rd Corps out of the city.”

  * * * *

  In the quiet weary hours before dawn, two men walked through the halls of the Royal Palace in Giza. The men wore the uniforms of the 23rd Corps of Aerta, and they talked softly and gaily as they passed the sentries posted throughout the building. While their faces may not have been familiar to the sentries, their actions were those of two soldiers returning from a night’s leave in the city. The sentries paid no particular attention to them as they meandered through the corridors. When they entered the area reserved for the king’s residence, their façade no longer protected them from suspicion. There were no valid reasons for soldiers on leave to be near the king’s quarters.

  “Where do you think you are going?” demanded one of the sentries at the entrance to the residential wing of the palace. “This area is restricted.”

  “It’s a shortcut,” one of the soldiers replied with a perfected slur in his speech. “Shh,” he added with a finger to his lips.

  The sentries looked at one another and immediately drew their swords. Before either one of them could move closer to the drunk, two knives flew from the hands of the quiet soldier, and the sentries fell to the floor, their swords clanging loudly on the floor.

  The drunken soldier frowned and shook his head. “Be quicker the next time,” he scowled at his partner. “Those sounds might have alerted the next set of sentries.”

  The quiet soldier nodded as he retrieved his knives and dragged one of the bodies to an alcove. The drunken soldier also dragged one of the bodies and hid it before they reunited for the journey deeper into the residential wing. The soldiers abandoned their talkative deception and moved silently through the corridors until they came to the area where the door to the king’s residence awaited them. Two more sentries stood guard outside the door, and the assassins halted before they could be seen. The one who had pretended to be drunk removed a scroll from his pack and clenched it in his fist. With a nod to his partner, he straightened and strode purposefully towards the king’s door. Both sentries immediately stiffened at the approach of the messenger. The messenger purposely halted before the door in such a manner as to cause the sentries to turn away from his partner who was still hidden.

  “I do not know you,” one of the sentries stated with suspicion. “Who gave you leave to enter this area?”

  “General Antero,” stated the messenger as he held the scroll up to capture their attention. “This message just arrived from General Alden. The king is to be awoken immediately.”

  One of the sentries backed away from the door and swiftly drew his sword. “Place the scroll on the floor,” he ordered, brandishing the sword in the messenger’s direction. “General Antero would never send an unfamiliar face to the king. Put it down and back up against the opposite wall. Failure to do so will result in your death.”

  The other sentry drew his sword and the messenger looked perplexed. He shrugged in indifference and bent over to place the scroll on the ground. When he did so, the other assassin threw a knife at the sentry closest to his confederate. The knife struck the sentry’s chest and his sword fell from loose fingers. The messenger immediately bolted upright, bringing a hidden knife up before him. He drove the knife into the second sentry and then eased the body to the floor. The messenger went to work on the door lock as his partner moved the bodies away from the door. Within moments, the door was unlocked. The assassins opened the door to the king’s quarters and slipped inside.

  The king’s chambers were vast, and it took a while for the assassins to find the bedroom, but the king was still asleep when they entered the room. They immediately split up with one assassin on each side of the large bed. They drew their swords and the messenger reached into his pouch and extracted something. He kept the object concealed in one hand while his other hand moved the sword to the king’s neck. When the cold steel touched the king’s neck, he awoke with a start. He stared up at the soldier holding the sword, and his eyes glazed over with confusion.

  “Greetings from King Bartomir of Candanar,” smiled the assassin as he threw a golden brooch on the king’s chest.

  King Anator glanced down and saw the symbol of the Badgers. He gasped in understanding as the assassin’s sword pierced his neck.

  Chapter 38

  Changing of the Guard

  Fakir Aziz stooped in the water just offshore of Giza. His hands stretched into the water and his eyes closed to avoid staring into the rising sun. As the gentle waves washed over his legs and arms, the Mage nodded thoughtfully. He opened his eyes and rose to his feet. Leaving the sea, he sat down on a rock and dried his hands and feet with the hem of his robe and then pulled on his boots. He walked back to the slums of Giza, neither tarrying nor hurrying, his mind leagues away from the cluttered streets of the Aertan city. Almost as if in a stupor, the Mage walked into the camp set up by his fellow mages in the slums. It took him a moment to recognize the presence of an old Alcean friend.

  “Theos?” Tedi asked as he stared at the illusion surrounding Dorforun, the dwarven mage from Tarashin. “I thought you were in Tyronia.”

  “Tedi,” the Mage called out to prevent the Knight of Alcea from realizing that he was looking at an illusion. “What brings you to our humble camp?”

  The Knight of Alcea immediately turned away from Dorforun and approached Fakir Aziz. “I was looking for you,” Tedi admitted. “I had heard that a group such as yours arrived a short time ago. It is not a safe time for you to be in Giza.”

  “I heard that King Anator was assassinated last night,” Fakir responded.

  “It is more than that,” Tedi said softly. “War is coming to this city in mere days. You will not want your people in the middle of it.”

  Fakir smiled and raised an eyebrow at the Knight of Alcea. “Do you fear for our safety?”

  Tedi’s face reddened with embarrassment. “I know that I should not worry for you,” he replied, “but it is my nature. I would not want events to sneak up on you without warning.”

  “Your thoughts are most warming,” Fakir Aziz smiled in a fatherly fashion. “The truth is that my group will be leaving Giza this very day. It is time for us to be moving on. Will you and your lovely bride be leaving as well?” T
he Mage looked around and frowned. “Where is Natia?”

  “She is on a mission,” answered Tedi. “We are negotiating with General Antero to surrender Giza without a fight, but that would require getting General Hedstorus to leave the city. Natia is escorting a colonel to meet with King Arik, and I am here trying to figure out a way to move the 33rd Corps outside the walls of the city.”

  “Where they will be slaughtered?” asked the Mage with a hint of disapproval in his voice.

  “Where they will be slaughtered,” Tedi sighed as he nodded. “We have taken great risks to keep the killing down as you requested, but not everyone will surrender. The armies loyal to Grand General Kyrga are among those who will not surrender.”

  The Mage sighed heavily and nodded. “Such is the way of men,” he said in a weary tone. “I have noted the successes that King Arik has accomplished, and they are impressive, particularly with his ability to avoid too much bloodshed, but I think it hardly matters any more. The threshold that Alutar requires has been met. Still, it is prudent to avoid the wholesale killing of Zarans. Tell the Warrior King to continue along his path, although I doubt that he needs to hear my words to do so.”

  “He needs no encouragement,” replied Tedi. “That is why we are trying to lure the obstinate generals out in the open for battle while leaving the others free to surrender.”

  Fakir Aziz stared right through Tedi, and the Knight of Alcea wondered if something was troubling the Mage, but he held his tongue. The silence lasted for several moments.

  “Hedstorus will not leave the city,” the Mage suddenly announced. “Short of a direct order from Grand General Kyrga, he will refuse to leave the relative safety of the city. His soldiers, however, might leave given the proper incentive.”

  As if his words with Tedi were instantly dismissed from his mind, Fakir Aziz suddenly turned towards his group of mages and began issuing orders to pack for a journey. He walked away from the Knight of Alcea without looking back. Tedi stood still for a while, letting the Mage’s words roll around inside his head.

  * * * *

  Natia and Colonel Fisker had ridden through the night, and the sun was once again reaching its zenith in the clear sky. The colonel asked for another halt to let the horses rest, but Natia shook her head. Moments later, the colonel understood her hesitancy to stop. As they rounded a bend in the road, he saw a massive military camp. The encampment spread from the road clear across the prairie to the banks of the Zinbar River. Hundreds of large tents dotted the field and each of them sported a colorful banner waving from a pole attached to the tent. He was unfamiliar with the banners, but he knew that he was looking at a massive Occan army. He imagined that the banners signified the barony of the soldiers occupying the tents. As Natia led the colonel through the encampment, every Occan soldier turned to stare at him. Colonel Fisker suddenly felt very uncomfortable in his Federation uniform, but he detected no hostility from the northern horsemen.

  “Is this safe?” he softly asked Natia. “I can’t imagine an enemy soldier riding through one of the Federation camps without being killed.”

  “Our arrival is expected,” Natia replied. “Did you not wonder why this great army would be camped during the heat of the day?”

  Colonel Fisker’s eyes grew wide in wonder. “How could they possibly know that we were coming?” he asked. “We did not even stop for the night. No messenger could have beat us here.”

  Natia merely smiled, and the colonel knew that he would not get an answer from the female spy. As they traveled towards the river, the nature of the encampment eventually changed. Gone were the large tents with the colorful banners. In their places were smaller tents, and the soldiers in the area all wore uniforms of the same color, a dull gray with red bars upon their shoulders. The men also lacked the distinctive Occan facial features, and the colonel knew that he was looking upon the famed Alcean Red Swords. He examined them closely as Natia continued to lead him towards the river. In many ways, the Red Sword encampment was like any other he had seen in the Federation, but there were also differences that the colonel could not put his finger on right away. In all encampments the colonel had ever seen, there were always men gambling and sporting with one another, and he did not see any of that in the Red Sword camp, but that was understandable. They were after all in a foreign land on their way to war. The Red Swords seemed to keep themselves busy with the tasks of soldiers. They were checking their armor and servicing their weapons, but there was something else that set them apart. Colonel Fisker frowned as he tried to understand what it was as he gazed from soldier to soldier. Suddenly, it hit him. The Red Swords were more wary than any others he had known, but not wary in a paranoid manner. Their wariness was born of practice. As he watched the Red Swords, he noticed that each soldier remained cognizant of his surroundings at all times, no matter what chore he was involved in. The colonel was impressed.

  As Natia and Colonel Fisker rode through the Red Sword encampment, a larger tent came into view on the banks of the Zinbar River. The tent was white with golden edges. Flying from its peak was a standard bearing the likeness of a dragon. The dragon was a bright green and had wings of black, but the tongue and eyes were a vivid red. The colonel shivered as he imagined what a tremendous foe the mythical creature would make. As he was staring at the tent, a young couple emerged from it. He stared at them in confusion. While both were dressed in white armor with golden trim, the man’s breastplate showed the same dragon as the flag above the tent, and the dragon’s eyes appeared to be staring directly at him. The colonel was so fixated on the man’s breastplate that he did not realize that his horse had stopped walking.

  “It is considered rude to stay atop your horse when greeting the King and Queen of Alcea,” Natia said softly from somewhere below the colonel.

  The colonel snapped out of his trance and saw Natia already dismounted. He hurriedly dismounted and bowed to the young couple.

  “Welcome to our camp, Colonel Fisker,” smiled the king. “Please, come inside where we may talk without the sun beating down upon us.”

  The king and queen disappeared into the tent and Colonel Fisker halted until Natia stepped up alongside him.

  “You didn’t tell me that the King of Alcea would be here,” Colonel Fisker whispered. “What am I to say to him?”

  “Speak only the truth to him,” Natia responded. “He will do no less for you, and your safety in this camp is guaranteed. I would not have brought you on any other terms.”

  Colonel Fisker nodded and sighed with relief as Natia guided him into the tent. The Federation colonel looked around the tent as they entered. While the tent was nicely appointed and appeared to be rather comfortable, there were no trappings of royalty visible. There was a table set in the center of the tent and the king and queen were already seated. Natia led the colonel to the table and they both sat down.

  “Thank you for coming, Colonel Fisker,” the king began. “I am King Arik of Alcea, and this is Queen Tanya. I understand that the purpose of your visit is to verify that the army around you is indeed headed towards Giza. I will now verify that for you. We number twenty thousand Occan lancers and three thousand Red Swords. There will also be other forces as they are needed, but I feel no need to go into such details with you. Our purpose, Colonel, is to destroy the Federation, not Aerta.”

  “You see a difference between the two?” the colonel asked nervously.

  “Indeed we do,” answered King Arik, “but let me be clear of my intentions so that there is no misunderstanding between us. I said that I seek the destruction of the Federation and not Aerta, but if your superiors force me to conquer Aerta to achieve my goals, I will do so. Can such bloodshed be avoided?”

  The colonel felt uncomfortable in the presence of the Alcean king. In all of his years of service to Aerta, he had only been in the presence of King Anator a handful of times, and none of those occasions involved talking directly to the king as he was now doing with King Arik. He felt as if he was the wrong perso
n for this particular mission.

  “I don’t know,” the Federation colonel answered truthfully. “I would like to think that I know General Antero better than most of the men under his command, but the decision will not be his, and I cannot presume to speculate on how King Anator might react.”

  “What would you do, Colonel, if it were your decision to make?” asked Queen Tanya.

  Colonel Fisker remembered Natia’s admonition to state only the truth. He thought for a few moments before answering.

  “I am not sure,” he admitted. “I place the country of Aerta above the Federation, so my first thought would be one of compliance, but you have not given me enough information to form a reasonable answer to your question. Are you asking Aerta to allow your army to pass through our land unmolested?”

  “No, Colonel,” King Arik replied. “I am asking for the surrender of Aerta. It is the only way to ensure that your country leaves the Federation. Our intent is not to rule Aerta, but rather to make sure that it is ruled properly. King Anator must be deposed. He is not an acceptable ruler in the eyes of Alcea. He has led his people to the depths of misery, and he has conspired as one of the heads of the Federation to invade Alcea. We will not allow him to remain in any position of power.”

  “The king would never accept such terms,” frowned the colonel.

  “I am more interested in what the people of Aerta will accept,” retorted King Arik, “especially the army. Are they all willing to die to preserve the throne of a king who uses his citizens as pawns for his own pleasure?”

  Colonel Fisker started sweating. It was obvious that King Arik was asking the Aertan soldiers to depose their own king or face the Alcean-led army in battle. It was a choice between death or treason.

  “I cannot speak for the entire army,” the colonel responded weakly, “but General Antero will not commit treason, and neither will I. I know that is not what you want to hear, but it is the truth. I do not think that either the general or I would look forward to meeting your army in battle, but we are incapable of doing what you are asking of us. Is there no other way?”