by Inmon, Shawn
Just then, an out of breath young man burst through the gate, shouting “Harta-ak! Harta-ak!”
Their whole group ran back to the front of the gate with Harta-ak in the lead.
“What? What is it?”
“I have a message from Rinka-ak.”
The boy doubled over, trying to catch his breath.
“Did you run all the way from the river?”
“Yes, the message is important. Rinka-ak says you must get a message to Winten-ah. The greatest army he has ever seen is camped out below his village. He says there are too many to count.”
“Why would an army that big attack Rinta-ah? There’s nothing in that village or ours that is worth what it would take to move an army like that.”
“They are not attacking Rinta-ah. At least not yet. Rinka-ak says they are not to be trusted.”
“What is it they want, then?”
“They want to destroy Winten-ah and kill Manta-ak.”
Chapter Thirty-One
An Invading Army
The boy had finally caught his breath. “Can you send someone to warn Manta-ak?”
“There is no need,” Harta-ak said, pointing at Alex. “He is here.”
The boy’s jaw dropped open. In his mind, at least, the already-burgeoning legend of Manta-ak grew three times larger. “How did you know?”
“I didn’t,” Alex said, waving away the worship that appeared in the boy’s eyes. “I am just here to say hello to my friends.”
Harta-ak put an arm on the boy’s shoulder. “Thank you, but you should return to Rinta-ah now. Rinka-ak may need you.”
Reggie laid an arm around Alex’s shoulders and said quietly, “What the hell do we do now?”
For just a moment, Alex felt tired. Not the kind of tired that ten nights of sleep would cure. It was an exhaustion that went deep inside him. Then he shrugged that off. There was a challenge at hand, tired or not.
“Wait!” Alex shouted after the boy. “I have a question.”
They boy hurried back. “Yes?”
“They are at Rinta-ah?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know the man who leads the army?”
“Rinka-ak said he called himself Draka-ak.”
I didn’t think he would come all this way himself. I guess he realized that if you want to kill someone right, you’ve got to do the job yourself. At least, you and a few hundred of your best friends.
“How is an army of that size going to cross the river? Rinta-ah still has just one boat, right?”
“We have one boat and Danta-ah has another, smaller boat.”
“So, again. How are they going to cross the river?”
The boy took a deep breath. “The man who leads the army is very angry. He had a person who led them to Rinta-ah. He thought it was easy to cross the river there.”
Alex digested that.
A massive army. But, what is a massive army in Kragdon-ah? Five hundred warriors? A thousand?
Alex turned to Harta-ak. “How many people can cross in the boat at one time?”
“In their boat, ten. In our boat, four.”
“And how long does it take to make a round trip to the other side and back?”
Harta-ak considered. The Kragdon-ah day was not divided into twenty-four hours. “On summer solstice, if we started at first light, we could make fifteen trips before the sun set.”
“But solstice is a long way away. The days are shorter now. So, tomorrow, how many round trips could they make?”
“The problem for them is that there is only one rope bridge, so they can only use one boat at a time. If they started at first light, I think they could make ten round trips before darkness fell.”
“Good. Ten trips, ten men carried at a time. They can put a hundred people across at a time. But that does not include their horses and whatever else they are carrying for a trip so long. Not to mention that they want to make war on us when they get to Winten-ah.”
The boy spoke up again. “The man who leads their army killed the man who led them to Rinta-ah.”
“So there is one less person to carry across the river,” Harta-ak said. He was trying to lighten the mood, but no one laughed.
Alex had again started to think like the tactician he was. “They have two choices, then. Retreat east for many days so they can find an easier place to cross. Or, slowly take their men across ten at a time and leave their horses and much of their equipment behind. Either way, they are going to be stuck where they are for a few days.”
“That gives us time to get back and warn Sekun-ak then,” Reggie said. “We can pull everyone into the caves and be ready for an attack when they get there.”
“With an army that size, they could come and set up camp in our field and lay siege to us. We’ve already planted the krinta for the year. How would it feel to be trapped in the caves, unable to even poke our noses out while they taunt us, hunt our land, and gather our crops we’ve planted? No, I am not a fan of hiding in our caves unless it is a last resort.”
“What can you do then?” Versa-eh asked. “This is not a situation where you can burn their city down like you did last time.”
“Right. You’re right.” Alex glanced at Versa-eh. “There’s something I have to do. Can you take care of Sanda-eh for me?”
“Of course I will,” Versa-eh said, scooping the little girl up into her arms and holding her tight.
“If something happens to me and I don’t come back...” Alex let the obvious thought trail off.
“Of course we will,” Versa-eh answered his unasked question.
“Thank you.”
Alex laid his hand on Monda-ak’s head. “You can’t come with me this time. I need you to stay and help them take care of our girl. You’ll do that for me, won’t you?”
Monda-ak woofed quietly, but it was not his normal, happy woof.
Finally, Alex turned to Reggie. “You are right, too. I see it now. You and Tinka-eh should ride back to Winten-ah and tell Sekun-ak what is coming. He is smart and will know what to do from there. He will get them as prepared as he can.”
In English, Reggie said, “Sure, no problem brother. But what are you going to do?”
In the universal language, Alex answered, “I’m going to try and end this war once and for all.”
ALEX ACCOMPANIED THE young boy back to the river. Once there, Alex greeted the two Rinta-ah warriors who had carried the boat across.
“Gunta.”
“Gunta, Manta-ak,” answered a warrior who recognized him instantly. With his short stature and lighter skin, Alex stood out wherever he went in Kragdon-ah, which could sometimes be a problem.
The warrior beamed at the boy. “When we sent you to warn Manta-ak, we didn’t think you would bring him back with you!”
“Are the Lasta-ah keeping watch on the bridge? Do they see who comes and goes?”
“No,” the warrior said with a disdainful tone. “They are lazy. They have walked so far that they think this time should be used to rest. Their numbers are so huge that they are overconfident. They have guards set at the perimeters of their camps, but that is all.”
“Good. That overconfidence is what I am counting on. I’d like to ride back across with you, then.”
The two Rinta-ah warriors exchanged glances. “Do you know how many men have come to our land just to kill you?”
“I am hard to kill.”
“We will hide you in the bottom of the boat then, just in case.”
Alex agreed that was a good idea. He laid in the shadows at the bottom of the boat while the two strong warriors hauled it across.
When they reached the other side, the warriors and the boy departed while Alex stayed in the bottom of the boat, thinking, and waiting for dusk.
When the sun set in late afternoon, he waited a few minutes more, then eased from the boat. He thought back to the first time he had been at this spot—after he had thrown himself from the top of the spar tree to get across. He had been beaten and
bloody that day. Senta-eh had correctly surmised that the people in the village ahead might not be welcoming after Alex destroyed their bridge, so they had taken a circuitous route around it.
That day, Werda-ak had gotten treed by a gigantic wild boar and had yelled so loudly that he had brought the warriors that were searching for them. Still, Alex thought he could recreate their path now. He headed up the trail toward Rinta-ah for a few hundred strides, then found the same game trail they had used before. It branched off to the east and Alex followed it. As full darkness descended, he moved into the forest.
Alex was armed only with his two-bladed axe, his stone hammer, and the sharp stabbing sword that had belonged to Senta-eh. He knew that no matter how silently he moved through the forest, the predators who might be in the area would be aware of his presence. His scent alone was enough to alert them. He spent as little time in the forest as he thought he could, for that very reason.
After just a few minutes of hiking as quietly as possible, he turned north, hoping to come out to the east of where the Lasta-ah had camped. There was no path going in that direction, so he moved from tree to tree, getting scratched by branches and briars.
When he came out onto the trail that ran below Rinta-ah, he discovered that he had badly underestimated how large the army was that had come to kill him. He thought he would have come out well to the east of it, but instead saw that it stretched in both directions.
He revised the number of warriors in the army upward by hundreds.
No matter what we do, an army this size will overwhelm us. I can use tricks and traps to kill a few more of them, but in the end, any stand we make will have the same result as the three hundred at Thermopylae. I need to end this now.
Alex faded back into the woods, found the path he had been on and followed it east for two hundred more strides.
When he found the path that ran at the edge of the forest this time, he was on the far side of the invading army. He walked north, counting his paces, trying to get an estimate of the true size of the army.
He didn’t like the answer he came up with.
He didn’t want to get too close to their perimeter, but he crept along in the dark, marking where the guards were.
The boy had said they were lazy and overconfident, and Alex agreed. They had guard posts around the perimeter, but there weren’t enough of them and the guards themselves were playing a dice game or telling each other stories.
Alex counted and marked the spots where the guards were, then settled in to watch them. He wanted to know how often the guards were changed. He knew that a lookout was likely to be at his most engaged early in his shift.
After watching the rotation twice, Alex realized that they waited several hours between guard shift changes.
Perfect. Plenty of time for them to get bored and maybe fall asleep.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Draka-ak the Younger
Nature is never completely quiet, even in the heart of the night. Night birds still fly, insects still scurry, and the wind still blows through the trees.
Alex Hawk had been trained to use all cover available, both visual and audible.
He did a slow belly-crawl to within twenty feet of the guard posting he had selected as most vulnerable. He slowed his breathing and focused on the guard. He stood, but he was leaning against his long spear. After watching him for a few minutes, Alex was sure he was asleep standing up.
With infinite slowness, Alex stood. The guard did not move.
Alex stepped silently to the man and clapped a hand of steel over his mouth. He drew Senta-eh’s blade across his throat, cutting it all the way to the man’s spine. The guard made a soft gurgling sound, but never had a chance to cry for help. Alex let him slip to the ground, then hauled the body toward the forest. He stripped the uniform off the corpse and slipped it on.
The pants were much too long, but Alex rolled the legs up. He did the same with the sleeves. He would never pass a parade inspection—or any kind of inspection, really—but he hoped he would pass a cursory glance.
Like any army, there was a hierarchy to Draka-ak the Younger’s force. At the outer ring were the enlisted and the conscripted. Alex remembered that Klipta-ak had told him that he had been pulled from a building project to be part of the raiding party on Winten-ah.
A conscription policy like that made for large armies, but not necessarily well-trained fighting forces.
The grunts slept on blankets on the ground, huddled around fires. Unless one of them had a bout of insomnia, Alex wasn’t too worried about them. They were treating a few days of camping out at Rinta-ah as a three-day pass. He saw jugs of grog scattered about and the quiet sound of his footsteps were more than drowned out by the snores that came from all around.
One layer closer to the middle was the realm of the working soldiers. Men who actually knew what to do and when to do it. Men who ran herd over the grunts of the outer layer. Alex knew this was where he needed to be most cautious.
Luckily for Alex, these seasoned soldiers liked their creature comforts as well. There were two dozen smaller tents scattered about the inner ring. Alex guessed each tent might hold two or three soldiers. With the tents to protect them from the elements, they had let their fires burn down.
That made it easier for Alex to slip through their ranks unnoticed.
One ring closer to the middle was where the officers slept. These tents were bigger and made of a heavier canvas material. They were built with an opening at the top so they could have a fire inside.
Unless one of the officers felt a sudden need to empty his bowels, Alex wasn’t too worried about them.
In the center of the concentric circle was a single tent so grand Alex thought they could conduct a small circus under it. It was made of canvas with decorated cloth laid over it. The top of the tent was at least twenty feet tall, and there was a flag hanging limply from a flagpole.
Alex assumed there would be guards posted at the front entrance, if for show more than anything else.
The tent was big enough that it could have held two dozen men, but Alex desperately hoped there was only a single man asleep inside. If there were more, Alex would take them on, but that would ruin any chance of a quiet escape.
The worst-case scenario would be if there were women or children in the tent. Alex knew he would do what he needed to do to save Winten-ah, but he also knew he wouldn’t be able to live with himself if he was forced to harm an innocent.
Alex probed along the edge of the back of the tent. There was an interior wall of soft cloth that seemed to be anchored by spikes, with additional weights distributed every few feet.
As quietly as possible, Alex lifted the heavy exterior canvas. He couldn’t help but wonder how they had managed to transport such a thing so far. He closed his eyes and imagined the poor horses that had to drag it over the mountains.
He pushed the rocks aside that were used as weights to hold the interior wall to the ground then waited in the shadows to see if that activity had been noticed. No alarm was raised, so Alex laid on his back and shimmied under the canvas.
Inside the tent, he sat silently and took in his surroundings.
There was an actual wood-burning stove in the middle of the tent, piped up to an opening at the top. A comfortable-looking hammock was stretched between two poles on one side and there were several chairs around a table. To the far right was a bed.
As quiet as whisper on the wind, Alex stood and took three steps toward the bed.
His heart leapt as he saw only a single figure there. From his standing position, Alex did a visual sweep of the room to confirm he hadn’t missed some servant sleeping on the floor.
Once he confirmed there was only the solitary figure, he moved closer to the bed and stared down at the sleeping figure.
It was a young man, but Alex could see the resemblance to Draka-ak. The coal-black hair, the heavy eyebrows and thick lips were a match. Based on the small communication Alex had shared with h
im, he knew that Draka-ak the Younger also shared an attitude with his father.
Alex gripped Senta-eh’s short sword in his right hand, then once again clapped a vice-like grip across the sleeping man’s face.
Instantly, the eyes flew wide with terror.
A grim-faced Alex Hawk was the last thing Draka-ak the Younger would ever see.
JUST PRIOR TO FIRST light, a young Rinta-ah girl walked by the encampment on the way to milk. The eerie quiet was broken by her shrill scream as she saw what was right in front of the entrance to the camp.
Dozens, then hundreds of Lasta-ah soldiers rushed toward the unearthly banshee wail.
One by one, they stopped in fear and superstitious dread. One by one, they were pushed out of the way by the horde behind them. The girl’s mother ran to her, saw what she had seen, and hurried her back to the village. The milking could wait.
Draka-ak the Younger’s second-in-command, a seasoned warrior who had disagreed about the entire campaign from the beginning, pushed his way to the front, none too gently.
When he reached a clearing, he saw Draka-ak the Younger’s head on a pike.
THE CRUEL LIPS WERE twisted in an eternal, silent grimace. The eyes were wide. Tronta-ak, the second-in-command, did not go any closer. The Lasta-ah believed that the last thing a person saw was recorded on their eyes. Tronta-ak did not want to see the last thing Draka-ak the Younger had seen. He hoped never to come into contact with whatever or whoever it was.
Tronta-ak turned to his own second-in-command, who, he realized suddenly, was the second-in-command of this great army. Without a doubt, Tronta-ak had been thrust into a position of complete authority. Of this army, if not the entire city of Lasta-ah.
He tried to speak, but found his voice was lost somewhere in the back of his throat. He coughed, looked up at the sky, then in a firm voice, said, “Take the head down.”
“What should we do with it, Commander?”
Commander.
“We will give Draka-ak a proper burial.” He pointed to a man in front of him. “Run to Draka-ak’s tent. I assume we will find the rest of him there.”
