“What do you mean?”
“I can create a perfect image of the general, but I can’t make him say things that I have not witnessed. A few soldiers saw me walking the grounds of the palace, but I had to avoid them. If they had asked me a question that required something other than a greeting, I would not have been believable.”
“That poses a problem,” frowned Clint. “What good is the image of General Garibaldi if no one believes it?”
“It convinced Sergeant Tinker that the general was up in the middle of the night,” answered Peanut. “I also led him to the secret door that Grand General Kyrga uses to leave the grounds, but he did not explore it as I thought he would. Couldn’t someone else make the general’s orders clear?”
Clint pondered the fairy’s words. While it was not imperative to frame Garibaldi for the disappearance of the elves, it was highly desirable. Suddenly, he saw the fairy’s words in a new light. A smile crossed his lips.
“Someone else indeed,” Clint grinned. “That is exactly what we will do. I will not even need to perfect the general’s slight limp. I will go to the center on horseback. Peanut, I doubt that any of the men at the center have ever heard Garibaldi speak. If I keep my distance from them and speak softly, they should not be able to tell the difference. What I will be saying will be shocking enough as it is. You merely need to cast the illusion and keep it in place. Remember that the illusion is to appear only to outsiders. My men must see me as I really am. Can you do that?”
“I can cast the illusion between you and the people you wish to see it. Those near you will see General Forshire, but those at a distance in front of you will see General Garibaldi. Is that acceptable?”
“That will do nicely.” Clint nodded.
A knock sounded on the door, and Clint waved at the fairy as a signal to hide. He walked to the door and cracked it open. When he saw Scorpion in the hallway, he opened the door to let the thief in. He closed the door quickly, and the two men retreated further into the suite.
“It is a shock to see you in that uniform,” opened Scorpion. “I notice that you are wearing one of the patches I got for you. Do you think anyone will mistake you for General Garibaldi?”
“That is exactly what I expect,” smiled Clint. “I cannot explain it now, but I will need a horse for tonight, preferably one as close in markings to Garibaldi’s as possible. Can you do that?”
“I can,” frowned the thief, “but it is a change in plans. What are you up to?”
“I think I may be able to pull this off without a diversion,” answered Clint. “I still want your people to be prepared to create one, but do nothing unless you are told to.”
“Told by whom?” asked the head thief of Despair.
“Any voice that mentions my name,” answered Clint, “even if you cannot see the person speaking.” Scorpion opened his mouth to press for more information, but Clint pressed onward. “Don’t ask. It would just complicate this night. You are going to see me leading a large force of soldiers tonight. They will be my men, so do not get alarmed. I still need your people to get the children across the city. Is that all set to go?”
“We are waiting on you.” Scorpion nodded.
“Good. One last precaution, once the children leave the center, the soldiers inside should remain inside, but they might be suspicious. If one of them should happen to venture out and head in the direction of the Imperial Palace, make sure that he has an accident. I need all the time I can get to send the children on their way.”
“If you can get them out of the city,” promised Scorpion, “I guarantee that you will not be pursued until morning.”
“Excellent,” smiled Clint. “Bring the horse to the abandoned shoemaker shop near the center. I will be inside with my men.”
The head thief of Despair nodded and retreated from the room. Clint made one last inspection of his uniform and then donned his hooded cloak. He exited the suite and headed for the shoemaker shop. Two-hundred and fifty men saluted as he entered and took off the cloak.
“Any problems on the way here?” asked General Forshire.
“Not a one,” answered Colonel Hardi. “Other than the other soldiers treated us with disdain, no one even spoke to us.”
“Excellent. From now on, all of you will address me as General Garibaldi, at least until this mission is complete, and that is defined as delivering the elven children across the Despair River and escaping from whatever net the emperor casts to regain the children. You men were chosen because you are among the best of the A Corps. I expect each one of you to complete this mission and return to the main force. If that becomes impossible, you are to avoid capture at all costs. The A Corps cannot, and must not, be implicated in tonight’s mission. Is that clear?”
“The general means no surrender,” Colonel Hardi clarified. “If you do get into a fight, make sure you win it or die trying.”
“That is correct,” agreed the general. “Now that you understand the rules of engagement, if anyone wants to sit this one out, I will allow it.”
A moment of silence filled the room as the soldiers each looked around at his comrades. Finally, one of the soldiers spoke.
“There isn’t a unit in Despair that can track us down and defeat us,” boasted one of the soldiers.
“We are the A Corps,” added another.
“With V Corps patches,” grinned the general. “Remember that until they actually start chasing you. Also, remember to behave as if you are really in the V Corps.”
“A question, General,”
Clint turned to face the questioning soldier and nodded for him to proceed.
“We are supposed to be the V Corps, but no one will mistake you for General Garibaldi. How is this going to work?”
“They will mistake me for the Vinaforan general,” promised Clint. “I cannot explain it now, but you must trust me on this. They will believe that I am General Garibaldi.”
General Forshire’s promise was enough to satisfy the men. With no more questions, Clint explained to his men their part in the plan. When the knock sounded on the door, the fake V Corps was ready to go. Colonel Hardi answered the door, and Clint promptly walked out when he saw Scorpion’s man with the horse. He mounted the horse and waited while his men formed a column behind him. When everyone was ready, the general led his men to the front door of the reeducation center. Corporal Sayman had been chosen as the designated aide to the general. He stepped forward and banged loudly on the door and then backed up to stand alongside the general. The window in the door slid open and someone gazed out at a general on a horse and the army behind him. The window immediately slid closed and muffled shouting erupted inside the center. Moments later the door swung open and a captain saluted.
“General Garibaldi,” asked the captain as he nervously eyed the soldiers outside, “is there something wrong?”
“Not yet,” answered General Garibaldi, “but there will be if you do not listen closely and direct your men in an appropriate manner. Our time is short. Or I should say, your time is short.” The captain appeared very nervous, and Clint continued before he asked too many questions. “We have captured a large band of rebels north of the city. This center is the only facility in Despair capable of handling such a large number of rebels in a secure manner. That means that the children have to be moved immediately, and the center has to be made ready for the rebels.”
“Move the children?” balked the captain. “I would not know where to move them to.”
“I will handle their relocation,” stated General Garibaldi. “That is the purpose of the troops behind me. You and your men need to ready the center. That means that the bunk beds will need to be disassembled, and the spare rooms opened up. Every room must be closely inspected to make sure that there is nothing these rebels can use for weapons. There is also a mage among the rebels. You will need to set up one room that has no openings at all. The window in the door will need to be sealed, and the door itself will need to be padded.”
> “How many rebels are coming in?” asked the captain.
“Over three hundred,” answered the general.
“It will take days to get the center ready,” frowned the captain.
“You have mere hours,” retorted the general. “Grand General Kyrga will personally inspect the facilities at sunrise.”
“That is impossible,” pleaded the captain. “It can’t be done.”
“It must be done,” declared the general. “I suggest you quit whining about it and get started. Grand General Kyrga does not reward failure. Have your men gather the children and make sure that they are ready to travel. The sooner we get the children out of the center, the sooner your men can get to work.”
The captain hesitated for only a moment. He whirled around and shouted orders to his men. As the captain’s men raced to get the children ready, the general turned his horse and rode back through his assembled men. The captain turned around to say something to the general, but like a ghost, he was gone. He looked questioningly at the general’s aide.
“Does the general have orders for this move?” asked the captain. “I should have something to show Grand General Kyrga.”
“He has orders,” answered Corporal Sayman, “but I am not sure I would want to be the one to ask for them right now. General Garibaldi is in a rather foul mood. He is not one to leave the comforts of the palace, if you know what I mean. Being wakened up in the middle of the night to do Kyrga’s bidding has not made him any easier to get along with. He has already demoted three officers tonight, and we have not even started moving the children yet.”
“Demoted three officers?” gulped the captain. “What did they do?”
“I don’t know about the other two,” answered the corporal, “but one of them merely asked why we had to escort the children instead of your men doing it. What is your concern, Captain? Surely, you do not think you have to present a copy of Kyrga’s orders to the Grand General himself?”
The captain sighed deeply and stared at the ground for a few seconds before bringing his eyes back up to meet the corporal’s gaze.
“The V Corps does not exactly have the finest reputation in Despair,” stated the captain. “I do not want to be held responsible if something happens while you are escorting the children.”
Corporal Sayman laughed, and the captain frowned at the response.
“At least you are honest, Captain,” chuckled the corporal. “None of us could believe that we were being given a second chance. The rest of the army would rather spit on us than talk to us, but you have a good point. Write something up, and I will sign it for the general, but be quick about it. The general will not delay taking the children just to deal with paperwork.”
“I was hoping that the general would sign it.”
“I am the general’s aide,” replied the corporal. “I sign his name better than he does. Heck, I was in prison for forgery, but if you insist, I will call the general back here to deal with this problem.”
The corporal stressed the word problem, and the captain frowned heavily again. He looked past the corporal and saw the general angrily berating one of the soldiers. He slowly shook his head.
“Your signature will do, Corporal. At least I will have proof that I didn’t just open the door and throw the children out. Come inside.”
Corporal Sayman entered the center and saw the children being herded into a long column. The captain quickly drew up a receipt for the children, and the corporal signed it with an unintelligible signature. What he did write clearly was ‘Aide to General Garibaldi’. The captain was satisfied with the receipt and the center guards started marching the children out of the center. The men of the V Corps paired off with the children, one soldier for each of the elves. General Garibaldi led the column along the street and turned at the first intersection. Less than half a block later, he halted his horse and dismounted. He tied his horse to a rail and entered an old apartment building. He hurried down the stairs to the basement and found Morro waiting for him.
“The children are right behind me,” Clint said. “They think they are being transferred to another facility, but this trip through the sewers might cause them to be suspicious. You need to determine who the potential troublemakers are and find a way to keep them quiet until they are in Elfwoods.”
“Leave it to me,” replied Morro. “I was in their place once. I know the mixed feelings going through them. Those who are dubious about returning to Elfwoods will be readily apparent.” The elven thief heard footsteps upstairs and he knew the children would be coming down soon. He looked at Clint questioningly, “You are not going through the sewers with them?”
“No,” replied the general. “I am using a horse to keep my distance from the soldiers. I will need to ride across the city. I will meet you at the other end. Make sure that we do not have any children who might say something to the gate guards.”
Clint turned and worked his way up the stairs as the soldiers started bringing the children down. Morro moved across the room and positioned himself so that the hatch to the sewers would not be visible when he addressed the children. When the children were all gathered in the basement, Morro explained that the soldiers were returning them to Elfwoods. He told them how he was to be their guide, but he left out any mention of the unicorns and the Isle of Despair. Morro scanned the faces of the children as he spoke. By the time he was done, with his little speech, he had noted the faces of six of the older boys. When the children were being led into the sewers, he had the soldiers bring the six boys to him.
“You six are not sure if you want to return to Elfwoods, is that correct?”
None of them answered.
“For the sake of the other children, you are going to have to come along tonight, but I will make you a promise. If you decide that you would prefer to stay with the Federation, I will see to it that you are brought back.”
“The Federation will not accept us back,” challenged one of the boys. “They have made that very clear. Once we chose to return to Elfwoods, we must stay there and rot.”
“Rot?” balked the elven thief. “You have no concept of what it means to be a Dielderal. For generations the empire has enslaved our people by taking our children and jailing them in reeducation centers. For generations the elves have held back their desire to crush the empire because of our fears of harming you children, and all you can think of is yourselves? You probably think that you will join the Federation armies and become great warriors. Well let me tell you the truth. This very night is the beginning of a war. All across the Federation, reeducation centers are being attacked, and elven children are being freed. By morning, not a single elven child will be in the hands of the Federation, and nothing will stop the Dielderal from seeking their revenge for centuries of slavery. You want to be warriors? Fine. Your people need warriors, but if you choose to fight for the Federation, be prepared to die under the knife of the Dielderal.”
“War?” gulped one of the boys. “The elves are actually going to fight the Federation? Is that the truth?”
“This day is something that I have spent twenty years working to see,” answered Morro. “At times, I never thought I would live to witness this day, but here it is. When the sun rises, the Federation will be searching for the Dielderal, but they will not find us. Then when they have forgotten about us, we will strike with a fury never before seen in this land. Anyone who stands against the Dielderal will be crushed without mercy.”
“I will not fight against my own people,” swore one of the boys as he moved away from the others. “I am going home.”
“Me, too,” added another boy. “I don’t like the Federation. I just want to be a warrior. I will stand with the Dielderal.”
“That is all we have ever wanted,” stated the leader of the boys, “a chance to fight as a warrior. If the elves are going to fight the Federation, we will lead the charge. Take us home.”
One by one, the other boys agreed, and Morro led them into the sewers.
/> * * * *
The soldiers in the reeducation center were cursing up a storm. The bunks had been fastened together for so many years, that the bolts were rusted. Bolts snapped and wood split as the soldiers tried to tear them apart. Other soldiers were trying to mop the floors, and those taking apart the bunks were slipping on the wet floors. The captain walked from room to room and shook his head at the futility of the assignment thrown at him. When one of the bunks tumbled to the floor and split into a dozen fragments, he knew that he had to do something quickly. He pulled one of the soldiers away from his duty and led him to the office. The soldier stood in front of the desk while the captain scribbled furiously on a piece of paper. When the captain was done writing, he handed the paper to the soldier.
“Take that to the palace,” instructed the captain. “Demand that they get the supply officer woken and tell him we need every part on that list immediately.”
The soldier glanced at the message and frowned deeply. “We won’t get these parts, Captain. Even if they wake the supply officer, which I don’t think they will, he won’t have half of this stuff in the storeroom. We just aren’t going to make the deadline.”
“I know that,” sighed the captain, “but you will follow my orders. If you can get them to wake the supply officer, the problem then becomes his. When Grand General Kyrga shows up here in the morning and finds that we are not ready, I will blame it all on the lack of supplies. That is why you have to get that list to the supply officer. Use any excuse you can think of to get him up. Once he has that list in his hand, he will take the brunt of the blame for this failure.”
“I understand now,” grinned the soldier. “I will get him up somehow.”
The captain led the soldier to the front door of the center and unlocked the door. The soldier slipped out into the moonless night. Feeling the urgency of his mission, the soldier raced along the empty streets. He was three blocks away from the reeducation center when his feet unexpectedly tripped over something. The soldier went flying through the air and slammed into the street with a dull thud. Shadowy figures raced out of the nearby alleys and quickly scooped up the body. The rope that had been stretched across the street was lowered as another set of shadowy figures slid into place to wait for the next runner.
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