“One of you take the north side of the road, and the other take the south. We are breaking off the attack and retreating as we had planned to do earlier. Carry my words forward to the front lines and be quick about it.”
The two men saluted and dashed off in opposite directions. The man on the north side of the road raced through the trees, seeking the most forward commander, but he never found him. As he approached the front lines, an arrow pierced his neck, his body tumbling to the ground unnoticed. The right flank continued to press the attack while the left flank began their retreat. The Zarans, seeing the confusion, chose that moment to attack.
Thousands of Federation soldiers leaped over the crude barricade and charged the Lanoirians. Other Federation units swept wide around the barricades intending to outflank the Lanoirians. Within mere minutes the controlled Lanoirian advance turned into a full-fledged rout. With the withdrawal of the Lanoirian’s left flank, the Federation soldiers ordered to go against it instead turned towards the stationary right flank and engulfed it.
Colonel Wu-sang watched in horror as the tides of battle changed against him. He dispatched runners as quickly as he could find them in an attempt to lessen his loses, but there was little he could do. The cavalry was brought into the battle, but they were only effective on the road portion of the battlefield. They did manage to shield the left flank and allow them to organize their retreat, but they were useless against the wooded battle occurring on the right flank.
Elandros and his elves swept into the forest towards the encircled right flank, but even their excellent archers could not extricate the Lanoirian soldiers. All they could do was whittle down the number of Zarans killing the trapped Lanoirians. Rut-ki took to the sky on her unicorn and flew over the battlefield. While it was hard to see through the canopy, she dropped small jars of fire glue whenever she saw large knots of Federation soldiers. Eventually the forest began to burn, and the Zarans retreated to their barricades, leaving the wounded and dying behind.
Colonel Wu-sang organized groups of men to brave the fires, rescuing what wounded they could find, regardless of uniform. As dusk arrived, the remnants of the Lanoirian army made camp a league east of the Federation camp. When the final tally was made, the Lanoirian army was short two-thousand men. Another one-thousand men were wounded. It had been a bloody day, and the mood of the camp showed it. As the camp finally settled down to sleep, three people remained around one of the fires.
“I guess I made a mess of it today,” lamented Colonel Wu-sang. “I have no right to hold my rank.”
“We Lanoirians are not the only ones capable of setting traps,” replied Rut-ki. “Besides, I am as much at fault as you are. It felt wrong to me far before I sent Speck to tell you to disengage. I should have acted sooner.”
“The two of you need to stop beating yourselves,” advised Elandros. “The trap was well set and sprung. No one can foretell what the enemy might do. The important thing is you both acted quickly to lessen the loss. If you, Rut-ki, had not started those fires, all of the men we pulled out would have died. And you, Wu-sang, your quick thinking and disciplined order allowed us to extricate the wounded before they died. Stop dwelling on the mistakes and concentrate on the future.”
“The future?” scoffed Colonel Wu-sang. “What future? I have only two-thousand men left, and I am supposed to stall the Federation march to Ongchi. How can I do that?”
“The Federation army was also bloodied today,” Elandros pointed out. “Their morale will not be any higher than ours, but they have no options open to them. They have to continue their long march towards Ongchi, and now they know that such a march will not be pleasant. They will be more wary than ever before. If you use your remaining men well, you can have a great impact on that Federation column.”
“He is right, Wu-sang,” brightened Rut-ki. “Elandros has been attacking them for over a week with only one-hundred men. We just need to be smarter in how we attack them.”
The Lanoirian colonel raised an eyebrow at the thought. “The men would look forward to bloodying the Federation again. What did you have in mind?”
* * * *
Four guards stood outside the large command tent of Team Mya. When balls of fire started streaming through the sky, they all turned towards the north and watched excitedly. While they were not close enough to the northern perimeter to see the magical projectiles strike, the shouts and screams attested to the attack. General Fortella burst from the tent, his attention immediately drawn to the magical spectacle as the darkness of the camp was shattered by the glow of fires in the distance.
“One of you find Colonel Tamora and have him report here immediately,” commanded the general.
One of the four guards took off running. The general stood watching the spectacle for several minutes before Colonel Tamora appeared with the fourth guard. The general turned and entered the tent, and Colonel Tamora followed him inside. Moments later, Colonel Tamora reappeared and ran in the direction of the disturbance. The general did not reappear outside the tent.
“I would not want to be under those falling balls of fire,” one of the guards said softly. “That is no way to die.”
Suddenly, the sound of a distant explosion shook the camp, and one giant tree screeched as if slid against another before slamming into the ground. The guards shuddered.
“There are things worse than death,” one of the other guards murmured. “The wounded will be left behind to die slowly.”
As the four guards stared off into the distance, a colonel ran towards the tent from the north. He halted at the edge of the road and stopped a passing captain. The guards could not hear the words, but they saw the colonel pointing excitedly towards the north. The colonel then pointed directly at the large command tent and then back to the north. The captain nodded and ran off towards the commotion. The colonel turned and strode briskly towards the large command tent. As he neared the tent flap, the guards noticed the blood on the side of his head, and his sleeve from the shoulder to the elbow was drenched with blood. The colonel whisked past them and into the tent.
“Who was he?” one of the guards asked softly. “I did not recognize him.”
“I doubt that his own mother would recognize him right now,” replied one of the other guards. “He has shed a lot of blood this night. Things do not seem to be going too good at the perimeter.”
Inside the large command tent, General Fortella looked up to see who had entered the tent. His brow creased in confusion just before the Lanoirian star slammed into it. The general’s eyes rolled up into his head as his body toppled to the ground. The bloody colonel had no need to check for signs of life. He pivoted towards the flap and reversed course.
”I will see to it, General,” he said loudly as pushed his way out of the tent.
As the assassin exited the tent, numbers were methodically flowing through his mind. The task had been accomplished much quicker than he had anticipated, and that meant that he had time to waste before he executed his escape. A sudden thought passed through his mind, and he turned abruptly towards the smaller command tent.
Only two guards manned the smaller tent, and even though they were also watching the fiery missiles, they caught sight of the bloody colonel coming towards them from the larger tent. One of the guards frowned as he gazed at the approaching colonel. He stiffened and his mouth opened to challenge the officer, but the colonel spoke before he uttered a sound.
“I want this guard detail doubled immediately,” the colonel ordered brusquely, “and start paying more attention to this area of the camp instead of gazing at things that do not pertain to your task. This camp might come under full attack at any moment, and you stand gazing at the sky. Get more men here immediately.”
The two guards glanced at each other anxiously as the colonel strode between them and into the smaller command tent. Unlike the alert General Fortella, General Whitman was resting on a cot in a dark corner of the tent. Alex strode across the tent without drawing the attenti
on of the general, but when he drew his sword, the general opened his eyes wide. Alex placed the tip of his sword at the general’s throat.
“I am not here to kill you this night,” Alex said softly, “but that night might yet come. You are the leader of Force Targa now. I think you need to dwell seriously on surrendering to the Alceans. It is the only way that you will survive this war.”
“Who are you?” croaked the general.
“Some call me Colonel Belasko,” Alex replied with a thin smile, “but you should think of things more important than my name. Your colonels will balk at surrendering because they do not know how pitifully the invasion is going. Your task is to seize control of this team and surrender it before the walls of Tagaret. Failure to do so will result in your entire team being destroyed, including yourself. Close your eyes now.”
The general closed his eyes, but his body shuddered uncontrollably. Alex woke his fairy and signaled for a sleep spell. Bitsy silently complied, and the general’s body fell still.
“Back into hiding,” Alex whispered. “We still have to get out of here.”
Bitsy climbed back into her pocket, and Alex sheathed his sword. Still counting numbers in his head, Alex quickened his step as he exited the tent. Without acknowledging the guards, he turned and headed towards the northern perimeter. He had not gotten very far from the road when he heard the shouts of treachery behind him. Someone had discovered the body of General Fortella. Alex broke into a run and raced for the perimeter.
Alex reached the northern perimeter area well before his appointed time. Fiery projectiles still rained down upon the encampment, and the area bordering the target zone was one of chaos and confusion. Brush fires ran rampant, and large trees, destroyed by tree mines, crisscrossed the ground, making an obstacle course out of the camp. Moans of the wounded and shouts of others created an audible jumble of sounds that added to the confusion. Some of the able soldiers were trying to evacuate the wounded, but others huddled behind trees for safety.
The plan had been for Alex to wait for a period of time when the magical assault on the camp would stop completely, giving him a safe window of opportunity to move through the target zone before the assault started anew, but the early discovery of General Fortella’s body demanded swifter action. He halted at the edge of the target zone and glanced around. The ground ahead was a land of total devastation. Nothing moved in the area except the smoke drifting up from the charred ground. Every couple of seconds, another fireball flew through the sky and impacted in a dazzling display of fire. The spells were no longer threatening the Federation army as everyone in the target zone was already dead, but no one seemed to be questioning why the mages were not changing the trajectories of their spells.
Anxiously waiting for the numbers to fall into place, Alex kept to the shadows at the edge of the target zone, but his time for waiting soon ended. Soldiers raced into the area looking for a bloody colonel, and Alex knew that he could not afford to wait for the lull in spells. He broke from the shadows and raced into the devastated area just as someone pointed to him and shouted to the others. As the Knight of Alcea ran across the blighted area, he caught sight of a quickly growing brilliance out of the corner of his eye. He dove forward, curling his body into a ball as the ground exploded behind him. As he rose to his feet and began running again, Federation arrows stabbed the ground on both sides of him. He sacrificed a bit of speed as he began to waver his path of escape. Another ball of fire slammed into the ground behind him, and he heard screams of pain as the fire consumed some of his pursuers. As Alex neared the relative safety of green forest, he felt an arrow whiz past his face. The arrow had come from in front of him, and he heard a gurgle of death behind him. He dove for the bushes before him.
“Hurry,” the female voice urged him, “but be silent. There are patrols out here searching for the mages.”
Alex rose to his feet and saw Princess Rhula let another arrow fly. He turned to see the last of his pursuers fall to the ground.
“I am indebted,” Alex said to the elven princess.
“So you are,” grinned Princess Rhula. “Send your fairy to the mages. There is no point in them risking capture now that you are no longer in the camp. Garong will aid their retreat.”
Chapter 41
Day Twelve
The Coastal Highway north of Trekum was a well-traveled road that passed through stands of forest and patches of grassland. Its broad expanse rolled over gentle hills and crossed valleys both broad and narrow. Along its wide surface, the 10th Corps cavalry rode three abreast followed by six files of infantry. Behind the 10th Corps of Ertak, the 22nd Corps of Spino waited in camp for their turn to head south. When fully assembled, Team Caldar would stretch for over two leagues in length, and that was an inviting target for the nomadic horsemen of Sordoa.
As the sun rose over the Sordoan Sea on the twelfth day of the Zaran invasion, sunlight glinted off the swords and shields of Sordoan horsemen who occupied the western end of a broad grassy valley which was bordered by forests on both sides. Shouts of alarm rippled through the ranks of the 10th Corps, and the infantry section that was crossing the valley immediately halted and pivoted towards the enemy. The first rank dropped to one knee and raised their shields. The second rank stood and raised their shields, while the other four ranks prepared their bows. The shield bearers drew their swords and waited for the attack. They did not have long to wait.
One-thousand Sordoan horsemen charged from the far western end of the valley, their war cries loud and reverberating. The sunlight danced off their shields sending blinding rays of sunlight into the faces of the Zarans, but the archers were unmoved. They glanced down to avoid the light and waited for the enemy to come within range. The sound of the galloping horses thundered and the ground rumbled increasingly as the horses drew closer. Zaran arrows were nocked as men in the first rank called out the distance of the approaching horde. Bows were raised high for an early strike, and squad leaders started counting down to zero.
Unexpectedly, the Sordoans turned in a well-practiced maneuver. Zaran arrows flew through the sky, but the Sordoans were no longer charging. With long crisscrossing sweeps from side-to-side, the Sordoan horsemen reversed course and began galloping away, yet the thunder and pounding did not diminish. The Zaran archers nocked arrows again, ready for another reversal that would bring the Sordoans back into range. It never happened.
Even as the Sordoans galloped away from the column, the thunder and rumbling increased. Eventually, one of the Federation soldiers turned around and saw the real threat. Charging out of the sun from the eastern end of the valley were thousands of Sordoan horsemen, the noise of their advance covered up by the charge from the west. They were already too close for the Zarans to reform their defensive line. Some of the closest Zarans dropped to one knee and tried to raise their shields as they had been taught, but others fired their arrows into the sun, hoping to score a blind hit. The Sordoans used their horse bows for three shots each before releasing their bows to hang on saddle tethers. They drew their swords as they surged into the Federation line and cut their way through to the other side.
The battle was over almost as soon as it began. The Sordoan horsemen continued heading westward after they rode through the Federation column, leaving thousands of Federation bodies in their wake.
The Federation column remained unmoving long after the Sordoans were gone. Soldiers filed into the valley searching for men that were wounded and trying to patch them up as best they could. An eerie quiet pervaded the battlefield, the soldiers speaking in hushed tones as if raising a voice would anger the gods.
Eventually, General Omirro arrived on the battlefield. He surveyed the carnage and immediately summoned runners to him. He issued orders for cavalry units to maintain a presence in all open fields until the infantry had safely passed back into the woods and then he ordered the column to start moving again. The soldiers grumbled about leaving their dead and wounded behind, but not loud enough for the general
to hear. Everyone knew that he was in a foul mood, and no one wanted to risk his ire.
A couple of hours later, the vanguard of the 22nd Corps of Spino reached the battlefield. General Barbone and Colonel Pineta moved out of the vanguard and halted to survey the damage. For several minutes, neither of them spoke as their eyes scanned the bodies. Piles of the dead had been dragged off the road to avoid obstructing the column, and the piles resembled berms lining the road. General Barbone grimaced at the sight.
“I heard the report the same as you did,” the general said solemnly, “but I cannot imagine what took place here today. Omirro keeps treating these Sordoans as if they were docile Dielderal, but I think he is wrong.”
“I do not see many Sordoans among the dead,” commented the colonel.
General Barbone rose up in his saddle and gazed left and right. He sat back down and sighed. “Nor do I, Colonel. The famed impenetrable line of the 10th Corps did not hold too well against the Sordoans.”
“The sight of this carnage will be upsetting to the men, General. It is already hard to maintain morale without decent food.”
“I agree,” replied the general. “Call a halt to the column and have the vanguard take care of the bodies. I will not have my army march through this.”
“General Omirro will be livid if we halt the column,” warned the colonel.
“Blast Omirro,” snapped the general. “Carry out my orders.”
The colonel saluted silently and rode off to issue the orders. General Barbone rode further into the valley, gazing upon the dead and avoiding the hateful glares of the wounded who were being left behind to fend for themselves. As he rode around the valley, he saw a lone horseman in the distance. He squinted towards the western end of the valley and recognized the bald governor. His first thought was about the audacity of the Sordoan sitting there gloating over his handiwork, but something tugged on the general’s mind. The Sordoan’s face held no grin. Curious, the general rode towards the Sordoan, and the governor rode towards him. When they reached a distance of one-hundred paces, the Spinoan general halted.
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