Army of the Dead fl-8

by Richard S. Tuttle

  “I am,” Marak nodded. “I am taking Myka aloft to observe the battle from the sky. As long as I am visible, your mages will be able to contact me.”

  The Torak turned and left the group of lords. He hurried down the embankment and climbed aboard the dragon.

  “Fly high, winged warrior,” instructed the Torak. “Let’s see what the enemy is up to.”

  “About time,” quipped Myka as she leaped into the air. “Waiting on the ground while the enemy attacks is not what I am interested in.”

  Marak merely smiled as the dragon’s wings began to beat powerfully. In moments the berm had faded to a small line stretching between the mountains and the river. The Torak gazed down at the road through the forest. His eyes scanned the stream of red uniforms in search of the Motangan premer.

  The Motangans had very few horses among their troops. Most of the horses were used to haul the supply wagons at the rear of the column, but officers also utilized horses to avoid walking with their men. Emperor Marak had little trouble finding the premer. With about one third of the Motangan army before him, Premer Shamal rode in a knot of other officers. Marak smiled and instructed the dragon to circle while he wove an air tunnel towards the premer. For several minutes there was no conversation to listen to, only the sounds of an army marching to war. Suddenly someone noticed the dragon high overhead. A few black-cloaks tried to send magical projectiles skyward to strike the dragon, but Myka was flying too high. She belched long flames in defiance, but the Motangan mages soon gave up.

  “We need a way to kill that dragon,” came a voice through the air tunnel. “That is probably Emperor Marak riding it. Kill them both and this war is over.”

  “You are correct as usual, General Chen,” came a second voce, which Marak assumed was Premer Shamal’s voice by the authoritative tone used to address the general, “but it is too high at the moment. I wonder what he is up to?”

  “He is probably checking out the size of our remaining force,” offered General Chen. “He killed many of our men at Sintula and is probably hoping to do the same at Chantise. We must find a better way across the river this time.”

  “We will,” assured the premer. “With Sintula behind us, we can safely report our progress to Vand. I doubt that he will quibble if we take a couple of days taking the city of Chantise. It will give our men some rest and lessen our losses.”

  Marak smiled as the premer validated the Torak’s own thoughts about the Motangan strategy, but the smile faded as an officer arrived from the front. He listened carefully to the report.

  “The Khadorans have not retreated to Chantise,” reported the officer. “We are being attacked well before the city. They have built a huge fortification across the road. Our men cannot reach it under the hail of Khadoran arrows.”

  “What type of fortification?” asked Shamal.

  “A large earthen berm,” answered the officer. “It stretches over a league with a swath of cleared area before it. The entire cleared area is within Khadoran bow range.”

  “What are my officers doing about it?” asked the premer.

  “We are attacking it,” answered the officer, “but the men are cut down before they can reach it. The entire berm is manned with Khadoran archers. I would like to halt the attack until we can figure a way around the berm.”

  A long silence filled the air tunnel, and Marak was afraid that he had moved it too far from the premer, but the voices soon returned.

  “We will need siege engines built,” declared Premer Shamal. “I want the attack to continue, but slow down the rate of soldiers pouring into the cleared area. I want to keep the Khadorans busy and make them think that we will just continue the attack. Build the siege engines beyond the sight of the berm. Also have every mage left moved to the front.”

  “Our mages are ineffective,” reported the officer. “There is a magical shield protecting the Khadoran archers.”

  “Instruct them to forget about the archers,” scowled the premer. “They are to concentrate on destroying the fortification. If it is made of dirt, let the mages return it to the ground.”

  The officer acknowledged his orders and headed towards the front. Only a short silence followed before General Chen spoke.

  “Why continue the attack?” asked the general. “We will just be throwing soldiers to the Khadorans. Why not halt the attack and save the men until we are ready?”

  “The Khadorans will not let us halt the attack,” answered the premer. “If our men stop entering the clearing, the Khadoran cavalry will attack. If we allow that to happen, we will never get any siege engines built.”

  “But our men can defend the road while the catapults are built,” countered General Chen.

  “Our men will not be able to move out of the way of the attacking horsemen,” retorted the premer. “This roadway is much too narrow. If our men clear off the road and into the surrounding forests, they will leave the road open to the Khadoran cavalry. Do you want to face their horsemen back here in the middle of the column?”

  “No,” agreed General Chen. “I see the wisdom in your orders, but perhaps there is a way around this berm.”

  “Perhaps,” nodded the premer, “but I am not hopeful for such a solution. Ask yourself why the Khadorans have chosen to make a stand along this road instead of retreating to Chantise as we expected them to.”

  “Because there is no way around it,” conceded the general. “If they have planned their defense so well, then might not we expect them to foil your plan for siege engines?”

  “An excellent thought,” agreed the premer. “That is what is puzzling me. Are they just trying to slow down our march on Chantise? Or is there something more sinister in the works?”

  “What could they do other than slow us down?” questioned the general.

  “We are already slowed down,” replied the general as he gazed upward at the dragon. “This column is almost at a halt and that worries me. Our maps of Khadora are fairly good, and I cannot imagine the advantage of choosing this road to defend unless the Khadorans are sure that we will not decide to cross the Khadoran River. Have we sent scouts towards the river?”

  “They went out early this morning,” nodded the general. “There is no one hiding out there waiting to attack our flank. The Three Sisters cover our other flank. No Khadoran horsemen are going to cross those peaks.”

  “Then we should expect an attack from our rear,” stated the premer.

  “What makes you say that?” asked the general. “The Khadoran armies are all ahead of us.”

  “Not all of them,” argued the premer. “Do not forget the frontier clans.”

  “Those clans are not something to fear,” balked the general. “All put together, the frontier clans can hardly make up one tenth of our size. Such an attack would be suicidal, and the Khadorans value life far too much for that kind of offensive.”

  “You are right,” sighed Shamal, “but my gut tells me that we are missing something. The Khadorans have been full of surprises since this war began. I cannot help feeling that we are falling into another trap.”

  “I will send out more scouts,” offered General Chen. “That will ease your worries. I think the Khadorans are just buying time to create a better defense of Chantise.”

  “Perhaps,” mused the premer, “but send out the scouts regardless of your beliefs.”

  The Torak knew what the new scouts would discover. He could not afford to allow that to happen. Raising his arm high, Marak cast a spell. A projectile of light shot from his fingertips and rose upward. The ball of light streaked towards the heavens and exploded in a frenzy of light. Long golden streaks flew out in every direction and plummeted slowly towards the ground. It was a sight that could be easily viewed hundreds of leagues away. Shamal and Chen immediately looked up at the dragon.

  “My gut feeling is overriding your assurances that this is only a delaying tactic,” snapped Premer Shamal. “Get those scouts out now.”

  Chapter 30

  Road
way of Death

  The elves had been following the Motangan column in Khadora. They had kept off the road and had moved silently through the forest. When the sky was illuminated by the Torak’s spell, King Avalar used an air tunnel to instruct his warriors. The elves moved quickly northward, their first targets being the supply wagons at the end of the column. The drivers and escorts were killed and the driverless wagons were used to block the roadway.

  Shouts arose from the column ahead of the wagons as the Motangans became aware of the new threat from behind. Some of the Motangans tried to press forward, but the whole column was barely moving. There was little room for the soldiers to move forward. Other Motangans turned to attack the elves. Two groups of elves moved forward. One group led by King Avalar moved through the forests along the east side of the roadway while the other group was led by Princess Alastasia and took the west side of the road. Together they moved forward as one army.

  The Motangans were no match for the elven archers. Most of them died before they ever saw an elf. Within minutes the Motangans were panicking. They began to shout and push forward even though there was no room for them on the road. They fled into the forest on both sides of the road and ran towards the north to escape their unseen enemy. As King Avalar and his daughter pushed onward, the rear of the Motangan column fled in full rout. The elves followed as quickly as they could nock arrows.

  * * *

  The Chula were spread out in a long line flanking the right-hand side of the center of the Motangan column. When the Torak’s signal was seen, they moved silently forward. No orders were necessary as each Chula tribe was led by the leader of the tribe, and each tribe acted independently. Spears flew into the unsuspecting Motangans, and light blades decimated the foreigners. The Motangans could neither advance nor retreat along the clogged roadway. Many of them stood to fight, but more fled into the forest west of the roadway. Their reprieve from battle was short-lived, and their retreat turned deadly. The armies of the frontier clans occupied the left-hand flank of the Motangans, and the Khadorans moved forward to engage the center of the column. Within an hour of fierce fighting, the center of the Motangan column ceased to exist.

  The Chula split into two groups. One group advanced along the flank towards the berm while the other advanced towards the elves. The frontier clans did likewise, and soon the Motangan column was being squeezed into two distinct columns, each caught between two armies. The Torak watched the battle from the sky as Myka circled over Premer Shamal. He maintained an air tunnel to listen in on the premer’s conversations.

  “We are being attacked from the rear,” reported an officer. Our supplies are gone, and the elves are advancing at a furious pace.”

  “Elves?” balked Premer Shamal. “That is preposterous. Who told you this?”

  “A mage told me,” replied the officer. “He said he received a message from the rear. I thought you should know.”

  “There are no elves in Khadora,” interjected General Chen. “The mage must have misunderstood the message.”

  A black cloak suddenly appeared alongside the premer. “It is true,” he insisted. “I also received the message. I do not know where the elves came from, but he would not have been specific if he was not sure.”

  “Contact him again,” ordered Shamal. “I want to be positive that elves are attacking us.”

  “He no longer answers the call,” frowned the mage. “In fact, I cannot contact anyone back there.”

  “Then go back there yourself,” snapped he premer. “I want information.”

  “There is more,” frowned the mage. “Our column is being attacked in the center. We are under attack from both flanks.”

  “By elves again?” scowled the premer.

  “No,” the mage shook his head. “There are no reports of elves on our flanks, but there are many mages among the enemy. Our losses are high.”

  “Your gut feeling was correct,” interjected General Chen. “What are your orders, Shamal?”

  Marak looked back towards the berm and saw the Khadoran cavalry surging over the earthworks. He nodded in satisfaction and dropped the air tunnel. The time for listening was over, for he did not intend to give Premer Shamal the chance to reorganize his forces. The Torak shouted terse instructions to Myka, and the dragon suddenly leaned into a steep dive.

  As the ground came rushing up towards Marak, he focused on the black-cloak talking to Premer Shamal. The Torak’s arm pointed downward, and a pulse of power soared from his fist. Even before the magical projectile struck, Marak followed with a series of light blades. The force bolt slammed into the Motangan mage, splitting his body in two. Premer Shamal and the officers surrounding him looked upward a second before the light blades hit. The magical blades ripped into the clump of officers with deadly results, officers and horses reduced to mere fragments that flew in every direction.

  Myka suddenly flared her wings and soared northward just over the heads of the column of Motangan soldiers. Flames shot from her mouth and scorched the mass of red uniforms. Marak scanned the roadway ahead and searched for black-cloaks. Whenever he saw one, he unleashed a light blade at the mage. Within minutes the dragon rose over the heads of the charging Khadoran cavalry. She banked sharply and prepared for another pass over the roadway.

  On her first pass, the Motangans were taken completely by surprise. The soldiers never saw the dragon coming, but those who survived her flames saw the dragon after she passed over them. The second pass was more dangerous. Flying into the faces of the Motangan soldiers, Myka had to deal with hastily aimed arrows streaking towards her. The arrows bounced off the armor-plated dragon, but a lone mage managed to strike with a fireball shortly before Marak struck the black-cloak with a light blade.

  Myka banked sharply to her right and skimmed over the trees. Marak jammed a knife into the dragon’s scales and hung on as Myka dove for the Khadora River. The dragon slid into the river, splashing water high into the air. She skimmed along the surface of the water for a short distance and then climbed into the air again.

  “Are you alright?” the Torak asked with concern.

  “I am now,” replied Myka. “That fireball hit me just right. It managed to slip under the scales. Did you get him?”

  “He is dead,” answered the Torak.

  “Good,” snorted Myka. “Let’s get the rest of them. Pay close attention to the mages.”

  Myka swept over the trees between the river and the roadway, banking sharply to soar over the road once again. Motangan bodies littered the road, and the winged warrior dropped lower. She impaled two soldiers with her claws as her mouth belched fire. The Torak tossed light blades before the dragon’s path as Myka tossed the captured bodies to the ground. Motangan arrows flew out of the woods towards Marak and the dragon, but Myka sped by too quickly to be hit by anyone on the sidelines. After several minutes of flying over the road, they came to a section of the roadway where nothing lived. Motangan bodies still covered the roadway, but there were no survivors to aim at.

  “This must be the center of the column,” shouted the Torak. “The flanking attacks have taken their toll.”

  “Then it is time to aid the elves,” snorted the dragon. “You have a minute to rest yourself.”

  The trees raced past the tips of Myka’s wings as she sped swiftly along the desolate road, her eyes focused far ahead at the figures still alive. Long tongues of flame shot from her mouth and her claws stretched forward as the Motangans came into view. Some of the Motangans saw the winged warrior coming. A few fled into the trees despite the presence of Chula and frontier Khadorans. Others stood their ground and raised bows to attack the dragon. Marak’s light blades preceded the dragon, shredding bodies and clouding the air with a red mist, and soon the Motangans were in a full-panic retreat.

  The panic spread in a wave as the dragon flew into the fleeing soldiers, again impaling some and tossing their bodies aside. A haze of smoke began to appear over the roadway behind the winged warrior as the dragon’s flam
es ignited bodies and body parts. Within minutes Myka saw the abandoned wagons of the supply train and soared upwards. She was about to bank for another run when the Torak spoke.

  “Take us high,” ordered the emperor. “I am feeling drained, and I wish to see the state of the battlefield.”

  Myka responded without comment and flew upward, far beyond the reach of arrow or magical projectile. From his high vantage point, the Torak gazed down at the roadway of death. The road was covered in red. Blood flowed freely among the uniforms of the dead Motangans, but few soldiers moved along the road. It was a desolate graveyard for the invaders.

  “Where are the surviving Motangans?” Marak asked as they flew over the road. “I cannot see them.”

  “There are still battles raging in the trees,” replied Myka, “of course I would not expect a human’s eyes to see what I can see. The rats have cleared off the road for now. It is a pity. I was looking forward to another run along the road.”

  “Can you see any problem areas?” asked the Torak.

  Myka did not answer promptly. She flew the entire length of the road and turned over the berm for another run. When she reached the southern end of the road, she turned again and spoke.

  “The battle is won,” the dragon declared. “The Motangans are seeking to flee rather than fight.”

  “And there is nowhere for them to run,” nodded Emperor Marak. “Praise Kaltara for this victory.”

  “And what comes next?” asked the winged warrior.

  “Fakara and Vand,” replied Marak. “I wonder how things are going there?”

  * * *

  “There is a wide pass through the mountains,” Bakhai said to Premer Cardijja. “We will pass through it tomorrow.”

  “And what is on the other side?” asked the premer.

  “A wide plain,” answered Bakhai. “On the other side of the plain is a jungle.”

  “And that is where Angragar is located?” asked General Luggar.

  “I do not know,” frowned Bakhai. “I do not even know if Angragar really exists, but that is where I was traveling when the evil spirit began chasing me. She must be protecting something.”