13 Day War dc-6

by Richard S. Tuttle

  “As Clint has warned,” nodded Alex. “Is that it?”

  “There is nothing else of significance out in the field,” the prince replied. “I will have written reports soon if you would like to read them.”

  “I would,” answered Alex. “Why did you say out in the field? Are there problems here in Tagaret?”

  Prince Oscar frowned deeply and nodded. “Healers all over the city sent messengers to the palace during the night with pleas for assistance. It seems as if some sort of plague has broken out in Tagaret. It couldn’t have come at a worse time, especially with everyone already being rather irritable.”

  “Can it be contained?” asked Jenneva.

  “I do not know,” answered Prince Oscar. “It appears to have broken out all over the city at the same time. The worst part is that Zalaharic has left the city. Perhaps you could help out, Jenneva?”

  Alex raised an eyebrow. “Where has Zalaharic gone?”

  “He slipped out of the city yesterday,” revealed the prince. “He felt a duty to aid Podil with the wounded unicorns. The king is not aware that he is gone.”

  “I will do what I can,” offered Jenneva.

  Alex started pacing the floor. He halted near the boots and picked them up to admire the workmanship.

  “Get healers from Elderal,” Alex said softly. “I have need of Jenneva for something more important.”

  “More important than Tagaret?” challenged Prince Oscar. “Maybe I didn’t explain the severity of the problem. The plague is affecting the whole city. That includes the Targa army. The army is supposed to march out of the city in four days. If the plague is not contained soon, it will not be able to leave the city. That will leave just the Rangers and the Red Swords to go up against Team Miram. They will be outnumbered five-to-one.”

  “What do you need me for?” asked Jenneva.

  “For Gortha,” answered Alex. “I think we need a mage present when we approach the tent of the black-cloaks. We need someone powerful enough to stand against eight battle mages in case we are trapped by the spell of fear.”

  “Let the black-cloaks wait,” decided Jenneva. “Prince Oscar is right. We need to get this plague under control, and we need to do it quickly.”

  Alex nodded in defeat. He turned his gaze to Tedi and Natia. “Do not attack the black-cloaks. Remove the Doors from Gortha and Pontek once the armies are out of the area, but do nothing more until you hear from us.”

  “No harassing or slowing the armies down?” frowned Tedi.

  “No,” Alex replied. “The Federation team out of Pontek will be handled by Prince Darok and his dwarves. There is no need for you to be involved in that. As for Team Gortha, I do not want them harassed until their black-cloaks are dead. What you can do, however, is concentrate on Team Caldar. First, verify if Wylan and Sheri were able to eliminate their black-cloaks before they died. If they were successful, do what you can to slow General Omirro down. We will deal with General Ritka and Team Gortha later. Read whatever Prince Oscar can give you on Force Sordoa before you leave.”

  “I understand,” nodded Tedi. “We will get ready to leave and then check with Prince Oscar.”

  The gypsies left the library, and Prince Oscar huddled with Jenneva as they laid out a plan for combating the plague. Alex returned to pacing the floor, seemingly unaware that he was still holding the boots that Prince Oscar brought into the room with him. As the Knight of Alcea was deep in thought, Prince Oscar reached out and pulled the boots from Alex’s hands. Alex looked up in a start.

  “They were not meant for you,” chuckled the prince. “These are the boots for a king.”

  “They are finely crafted,” Alex admitted with admiration for the shoemaker who had created them, “but I can’t picture Arik wearing them. The gold trim alone would put him off. Arik does not care much for the trappings of wealth.”

  “I agree,” Prince Oscar responded, “but they were a gift from a citizen, left at the gate this morning. Arik will no doubt wear them at his next public appearance and then store them in a closet somewhere.”

  “What citizen would offer such an ostentatious gift?” asked Alex. “Surely, the citizens of Tagaret know that Arik is not the type of king who covers himself in gold.”

  “The citizens of Tagaret are well familiar with the king’s taste,” answered Prince Oscar, “but these boots are from a Cordonian who has recently moved here. The man is the finest shoemaker to ever grace this city, and he charges the least for his wares. The king has already fielded complaints from the other shoemakers. They claim that Artimor is selling his footwear for less than they could make it.”

  “Is he?” asked Alex.

  “I don’t know,” shrugged the prince. “His prices are cheap, but he does a tremendous amount of business. I imagine that he can charge less because of the volume. I bet half the army uses his services, and it only takes so much profit to pay the rent. I suspect the other shoemakers are merely jealous. You should see this Artimor while you are in the city. You look like you could use a new pair of boots.”

  “Maybe I will,” sighed Alex. “I will have precious little else to do with my time while Jenneva travels around the city with you.”

  “Hopefully we will nip this plague in the bud,” smiled Jenneva. “Busy yourself with Oscar’s reports. I am sure that he won’t mind.”

  “Not at all,” smiled Prince Oscar as he held the door open for Jenneva. “I will tell the guard at my office to expect you.”

  Alex watched them leave and then returned to pacing the floor. Thinking that he was alone, the tiny voice startled him.

  “You want to kill those mages,” declared Bitsy. “I can tell. What is stopping you? You are as fearless as a fairy.”

  Alex halted and turned to stare at Bitsy. The tiny, blue woman still stood on the map of Alcea. Alex smiled at her.

  “You know me too well, Bitsy, but while your skills are impressive, I do not think that you can handle eight battle mages by yourself.”

  “And why would I have to?” asked the fairy. “If there is only one mage awake, and he is the one holding the fear spell over the tent, I could just put him to sleep.”

  Alex raised an eyebrow at the fairy. “We are not sure that fairies are immune to the spell. What if Shrimp was some weird exception that the spell did not affect?”

  ”Then I will become afraid before I enter the tent,” shrugged the blue woman. “If that happens, they will not know that I was ever there. I will flee and we can try something else.”

  “Or the black-cloaks will detect you,” frowned Alex. “We still do not understand their capabilities very well.”

  “None of my people have been detected yet,” retorted Bitsy. “We have entered temples and even the Black Citadel. The black-cloaks have not discovered us yet. Why not give it a try? There is nothing else to do while we wait for Jenneva.”

  Alex grinned and nodded. “Perhaps fairies are fearless after all. Let’s go down to the stables and see if Kaz and Yorra have arrived yet.”

  * * * *

  The unicorn glided to a stop in the small clearing and Podil dismounted. She nodded to Zalaharic as she let her eyes look over the bodies on the ground.

  “I wasn’t aware that you were coming, Zalaharic,” Podil said in greeting. “What is the situation?”

  “I am not here officially,” Zalaharic replied, “but I saw that I could get here quicker than you. I could not allow the four of them to lie here untended any longer than necessary.”

  “The four of them?” echoed Podil. “I was led to understand that only the unicorns were alive.”

  “That is what Twerp believed at the time he sent the message to Tagaret,” stated Zalaharic, “but he was wrong. Technically, at least. Wylan is close to death, and Sheri is not responsive.”

  “Not responsive?” questioned Podil as she knelt next to Sheri.

  “I have never seen anything quite like it,” commented Zalaharic. “It is as if she is in a frozen state, her life put on hold awa
iting some signal to awaken, but I cannot imagine what such a signal would resemble. I have chosen to leave her until last. Her health does not appear to be degrading, and the others need immediate assistance.”

  “Tell me how I can help,” Podil said as she rose to her feet and turned away from Sheri.

  “Sinora will need further healing,” explained Zalaharic, “but she is stable for the time being. I am most concerned about Wylan and Wesik. Wylan has lost a lot of blood, and the arrows damaged him internally. I am not yet sure of the exact degree of damage, but he could use some more Kioji tea. I did not expect four severely hurt patients, and I have used up my supply. Did you bring some with you?”

  “I have some,” nodded Podil. “I will make the tea up immediately. What about Wesik?”

  Zalaharic sighed, and Podil sensed the weariness in him. She knew that the flight from Tagaret must have taken the best part of a day. She also knew that Zalaharic would not have given thought to resting while others remained untended.

  “Wesik is bad. His flank was hit with a spell of fire, and it has burned through flesh and muscle. It will take a great deal of effort to heal such a wound, and even then, I do not know if he will ever walk again. He is also blind. A spell of brilliance must have struck him squarely in the face.”

  You summarize well, elf. Waste not your time on me. A unicorn who can neither see nor run is hardly worth restoring to life. Tend to the others.

  “I am the healer here, Wesik,” retorted Zalaharic as he placed his hand on the unicorn’s head and called forth a spell of sleep. “You stick to what you know and let me handle what I was trained for.”

  Podil raised an eyebrow and glanced at Zalaharic. “Is he talking to you?”

  “He was,” Zalaharic answered sharply. “He was telling me to let him die and concentrate on the others. I put him to sleep. I do not need such a distraction.”

  “They are a proud people,” Podil remarked softly as she stared at Wesik. “They are perfect companions for the Knights of Alcea.”

  “I prefer patients who are not eager to die,” retorted Zalaharic.

  Podil frowned. She had never heard Zalaharic complain before. She knew that the long flight from Tagaret would have taken a toll on the male elf, but she was sure that Zalaharic had spent most of his energy since arriving in the small clearing. Considering the conditions of the wounded, she realized that Zalaharic must have used tremendous amounts of energy on them. “You are tired, my friend. Catch some sleep while I am fresh. I will keep them alive and wake you when I need you.”

  Zalaharic sighed and nodded. “Two hours. Nothing more.”

  Podil nodded in agreement, and Zalaharic spread out on the grass. He was asleep within minutes.

  * * * *

  General Ritka of the 21st Corps of Spino stepped through the portal and into the barn outside of Gortha in the Sordoan Province of Alcea. He waited impatiently until his horse was brought through the portal for him and then he mounted the horse and rode out of the barn. Most of the 21st Corps had already passed through the portal and secured the farm. He rode confidently into the morning sunshine and looked around, slightly disappointed that Sordoa did not appear much different than his own country of Spino. Colonel Pierce hurried to his side as soon as the general was noticed.

  “The farm is secure,” reported the colonel, “and the vanguard is already on the way to the rendezvous point. They may have already met up with General Stemple and the 29th Corps by this time. Shall I escort you?”

  “There are ten-thousand men already showing me the way, Colonel,” scoffed General Ritka. “I think I can mange without your help. See that all of the men make it through the portal.”

  The general spurred his horse to action, leaving the rebuffed colonel behind. As the general followed the column of soldiers, a warning spread through the ranks before him. The marching soldiers, fearful of arousing the general’s anger, quickly moved to the side of the road, creating a pathway through the center of the column. General Ritka smiled inwardly as he watched his army cower before him. He galloped all the way to the rendezvous point and was slightly miffed to find General Stemple waiting for him. Ritka did not care much for the Aertan general assigned to him, and he made a point of making Stemple feel inferior.

  “You needn’t have hurried Stemple,” greeted General Ritka. “I would have thought it was obvious that the 21st Corps will take the vanguard. The 29th Corps will follow behind.”

  “As you wish,” General Stemple replied with a shrug. “This is as fine a place as any to wait for your men to pass by. Will you be in the vanguard yourself?”

  “Of course,” retorted General Ritka. “You don’t really expect these Sordoans to cause us any trouble, do you?”

  “Certainly not,” General Stemple smiled thinly, hoping that a small attack would come soon and strike the vanguard. “I doubt we will run into any trouble between here and Trekum. Safe journey to you.”

  General Ritka ignored Stemple’s words and continued towards the head of the column. Colonel Viya watched the Spinoan general leave and then approached his fellow countryman.

  “How can you stand being under him?” asked the Aertan colonel.

  “What choice do I have?” shrugged General Stemple. “He must have licked the right boots in Despair to become the leader of Team Gortha. We can only hope that he meets an untimely death soon. Perhaps his own men will accidentally slay him in the first battle.”

  “I know you say that in jest,” frowned the colonel, “but the men of the 21st Corps have no love for General Ritka. He is a pompous fool, and every one of the Spinoans knows it.”

  “It was only partly in jest, Colonel,” General Stemple said softly. “Ritka is careless, and that is dangerous for an army in enemy territory. He acts as if the Sordoans will be no challenge for his mighty army, but even a cornered squirrel can attack ferociously. His leadership will cost the lives of many men before this war is over. Our task is to make sure that our Aertans are not among the dead.”

  “That could be difficult,” warned the colonel. “The men of the 21st Corps are frightened, General. I was talking to some of their officers when we were waiting at Camp Destiny. There are rumors spreading through the 21st Corps of monsters in Sordoa.”

  “Monsters?” balked the general.

  “Dwarves in particular,” clarified the colonel, “but other creatures as well.”

  “Dwarves are extinct,” scoffed the Aertan general.

  “Don’t try to tell Ritka’s men that. They are certain that we will meet up with dwarves, and they are deathly afraid of them. It has gotten so bad that the officers have threatened to whip any man who mentions dwarves, yet the rumors still spread like a wild fire. I fear if it comes to fighting, the 29th Corps will have to take the brunt of it. The 21st Corps will be worthless.”

  “We only have seven days before we join forces with Team Pontek,” said General Stemple. “Then it becomes the problem of General Gattas. He is the leader of Force Sordoa, and I don’t think he cares for Ritka any more than we do. In fact,” he added with a smirk, “it might be fun to watch and see how Gattas handles Ritka. That moment might well be worth putting up with that insolent Spinoan idiot for seven days.”

  Chapter 17

  Lies

  General Montero stepped outside the inn in Pontek. He glanced around the streets and found them deserted except for the soldiers of the 15th Corps of Ertak. He had not expected many citizens to be awake at such an early hour, but neither did he expect the city to be deserted. He waited outside the inn for his horse to be brought to him. As he waited, he turned and glanced back at the inn. He saw a sign hanging on the building stating that the building was for sale.

  “Your horse, General,” came a voice from behind him.

  General Montero turned and nodded to Colonel Patrey. “Where are all the people of Pontek, Colonel?”

  “I suppose what is left of them are sleeping,” answered the colonel. “Pontek has been practically deserted fo
r months, General. When I was here in the fall, I saw signs offering one-year contracts for tradesmen and laborers. It was quite the talk of the town then. I suppose many of the citizens of Pontek took the jobs.”

  “You suppose?” pressed the general. “Are you not concerned when things turn out differently than you expected?”

  ”General Tauman’s reports state that the population of Pontek has diminished greatly,” replied the colonel. “I am suspecting that the cause is due to the offers of jobs. I do not know that for sure, but the low population of the city is what I expected. I imagine the few people left in Pontek will hide when they notice a foreign army in the city.”

  General Montero nodded with satisfaction. He had been mentally preoccupied before the invasion with the problem of losing custody of his brother, Prince Harold of Ertak, and he had not bothered to read Tauman’s reports. If Colonel Patrey had been expecting the current situation, that was good enough for the general. General Montero mounted his horse and gazed down at the colonel.

  “I do not wish to waste time in this city hunting for citizens,” ordered the general, “but you will order the men to slay any that they come across. I also want a detachment sent to the harbor. Disable any boats found there. I do not want anyone carrying word of our arrival north to Trekum.”

  Colonel Patrey nodded his agreement. “There is also a fishing village just north of the city. We spoke about it last fall.”

  “I remember the conversation, Colonel. Send a company forward and destroy the village.”

  “Disable the boats?” asked the colonel.

  “Raze the village, Colonel. Destroy everything and everyone.”

  “I will see to it,” promised Colonel Patrey.

  General Montero turned his horse and headed north to meet with General Gattas of the 6th Corps of the Empire of Barouk. Gattas was the leader of Force Sordoa and a rising figure in the Federation. Montero had specifically asked to be teamed up with Gattas because he thought the Baroukan’s influence could help if he had trouble deposing his father upon return to Ertak. Gattas was known to bend the rules when he needed to, and that was exactly what Montero planned to do. It was time for King Harowin to give up the throne of Ertak.