13 Day War

by Richard S. Tuttle

  “Oh?” Zack halted and turned to face the corporal. “Tell me about it.”

  Bork looked around to see if anyone was within hearing before speaking softly.

  “The man is a sergeant in the 16th Corps under General Vladin. He makes numerous trips into the Royal Palace as part of his duties.”

  “That works for the plan,” stated Zack. “What is the hook?”

  “He has a gambling problem,” answered Bork, “a big gambling problem. He has been borrowing gold out of the paymaster’s funds when no one is looking. He has always managed to replace the stolen funds before the soldiers returned from the field, but things have gotten out of hand. He lost big today, and tonight he learned that the soldiers will be returning tomorrow, several days ahead of schedule. He does not have the gold to replace what he stole.”

  The Alcean spymaster frowned as he stared at the ground. Bork knew Zachary well enough not to interrupt. He waited patiently for Zack to contemplate the next move.

  “He must have been drunk to share that information with Cobb,” Zachary eventually said. “Stealing from the paymaster earns a very public hanging in the Federation.”

  “He is very drunk,” admitted Bork, “and very scared, but you taught Cobb and me well. The man holds a slim hope that Cobb can come up with a plan to save his neck.”

  “How much does he need?” asked Zack.

  “Five thousand.”

  Zack whistled softly. “Our thief has expensive habits. That is actually a plus. It shows that he has been living on the edge for some time without getting caught. He must be fairly good at hiding his emotions. Take me to him.”

  Bork nodded and led the sergeant through the streets of the city until they came to the Journey’s Rest Inn, a modest inn for the budget conscious traveler. Zachary had rented rooms there for his military persona, while he also had rooms at the Greystone Inn for his Lord Zachary persona. Bork led the spymaster up the rear stairs and knocked softly on the door to Cobb’s room. Cobb immediately opened the door and admitted his two confederates.

  Sitting on the couch was a rumpled sergeant wearing the patch of the 16th Corps. He rose unsteadily as the two men entered the room, fear etched into his face. Zachary smiled at the man and crossed the room. He sat in a chair facing the couch and waved for the man to sit down.

  “I understand that you have a problem,” opened Zachary. “I might be able to help you, but my help doesn’t come without conditions.”

  The Spinoan sergeant swayed unsteadily and sort of fell into a sitting position on the couch, his head turning from side to side trying his best to focus on the new arrivals.

  “I will not deal with a drunk,” scowled Zachary. “Get this man sobered up.”

  “I have been trying,” sighed Cobb as he shoved another cup of coffee at the drunk sergeant.

  Zack stood and removed his pack. As he rummaged through the pack he ordered Bork to get some cold water and an empty bucket. The former caravan warrior returned moments later with two buckets, one filled with icy cold water. Zack took the empty bucket from Bork’s hands and handed it to the drunk sergeant.

  “Hold that between your knees,” Zachary scowled at the drunk, “and swallow this.”

  Zachary roughly tilted the man’s head back and poured the contents of a small envelope into the man’s mouth. He grabbed the cup of coffee from the table and poured enough into the man’s mouth to make him swallow. The drunk sergeant offered no resistance. Zack released the man’s head and stepped back. He walked to the door leading to the corridor and motioned for his men to gather around him.

  “I am going to another tavern for a while,” Zachary said softly to his two comrades. “When he vomits, make sure it gets into the bucket. When he is done, toss half the bucket of water into his face and use the rest to clean up. One of you come get me when he is sober enough to talk. I will not be far away.”

  The Alcea spymaster left the room and headed for the closest tavern that catered to soldiers. He had no success in getting anyone to talk about Alcea and decided to try yet another tavern, but Bork found him when he stepped out onto the street. The two men returned to the Journey’s Rest Inn. Zack eyed the Spinoan sergeant and found the man glaring back at him.

  “I’m sure glad you are not one of my normal drinking friends,” growled the Spinoan. “What was that stuff you forced down my throat?”

  “I do not drink with thieves,” Zachary shot back, “especially thieves that talk freely when they are drunk.”

  The Spinoan sergeant rose to his feet, anger and fear forcing the drunkenness from his mind.

  “I thought I was talking to a friend, but obviously I was wrong.” He turned and glared threateningly at Cobb as he started making his way towards the door to leave the room.

  “Sit!” Zachary commanded with an authoritative tone. “If I wanted you dead, I merely had to report your little indiscretion to the paymaster. I am sure that there would have been a reward for such a deed.”

  The Spinoan sergeant hesitated and glanced at the Ertakan sergeant.

  “Why didn’t you report me?”

  “I can make your troubles go away,” Zachary replied with slight smile. “Sit down,” he said in a softer tone.

  The Spinoan sergeant stood unmoving for a moment and then returned to the couch and sat down. Zachary reached into his purse and extracted five one-thousand-gold coins and placed them on the table. The Spinoan’s eyes widened at the sight of the small fortune sitting on the table. His eyes darted around the room as if to gauge the potential for grabbing the coins and bolting out the door. With a sigh, he nodded and returned his attention to Zachary.

  “Who do I have to kill?”

  “I will get to that in a moment,” replied Zack. “What is your name?”

  “Batt,” answered the Spinoan, “Sergeant Batt, 16th Corps.”

  “I have been told that five-thousand will save you from the hangman, is that correct?”

  “That’s the truth of it,” sighed Batt, “but I don’t know about killing someone to get the gold. I am a soldier, not an assassin.”

  “Well,” shrugged Zachary, “that is your choice, but I am not giving you the gold just to be friendly. If you take my money, you will do as I say, or you will die a most painful death. If you have any intention of trying to cheat me, hanging would be the much wiser path for you to take.”

  “Not saying that I would even think of cheating you,” probed Sergeant Batt, “but I can’t help noticing your Ertakan patches. You can’t possibly believe that you would ever find me if I chose to hide in this city. I would only have to hide until your unit is called up for the war.”

  “I won’t be going to Alcea,” smiled Zachary. “I am on special detail to the Royal Palace in Farmin. As for finding you, I would have no trouble at all. I have probably spent as much time in Valdo as you have. Besides, with enough gold, I can buy anything, including the location of your hiding spot.”

  “If you had enough gold,” Batt grudgingly conceded. “You can buy anything in Valdo with gold, even friends.”

  Zachary reached into his purse and placed another five one-thousand-gold coins on the table. Batt’s eyes widened at the show of wealth.

  “That will be your bonus for completing the task assigned to you. It is enough money to take you wherever you want to go, but you will not receive the second pile until you have been successful.”

  “Ten thousand in gold?” joked Sergeant Batt. “What do you want me to do, kill the queen?”

  No one laughed at the joke, and Sergeant Batt suddenly felt a knot in the pit of his stomach. He started shaking his head vigorously.

  “Forget it! I may be a thief, but I am not a raving lunatic. That would be suicide. Forget it! I might as well be hanged now and get it over with.”

  “You have access to the Royal Palace,” Zack said softly. “You can do it and get away easily.”

  “Easily?” balked Batt. “Are you crazy? Do you have any idea what security is like around the que
en?”

  “Actually,” smiled Zack, “I do know. If I had easy access to the palace, I would not be here talking to you. I would just do it myself. I can tell you how to do it, when to do it, and most importantly, how to get away with it.”

  Sergeant Batt’s gaze alternated between the door and the piles of gold. The wealth on the table eventually intrigued him enough that he chose to stay.

  “Tell me how I can do this and get away with it.”

  Zack smiled and revealed his plan. While the Spinoan was initially skeptical, he soon started nodding in agreement to the plan. Several hours later, Sergeant Batt picked up his gold and an Ertakan military patch and left the room. Zachary took the second pile of coins and returned them to his purse.

  “I don’t get it,” frowned Bork. “I can’t possibly see Batt getting away with this. Oh, you made it sound easy, but I know from earlier discussions with you that things will not go as smoothly as you laid them out. Why waste the five-thousand in gold?”

  “We can’t lose on this one,” chuckled Zachary Nolan. “There are only three possible outcomes. If he succeeds, we pick up our things and move on to Ertak. If he tries and fails, Queen Samir will have him tortured only to learn that the Ertakans hired him to assassinate the queen.”

  “What if he just never even tries?” asked Bork.

  “Then we feed enough information to Queen Samir to have Sergeant Batt arrested and interrogated. It will produce the same effect as if he had tried and failed.”

  “So the only way he gets to live is if he is successful?” asked Cobb.

  “No,” Zack shook his head. “If he succeeds, we let General Vladin know who the assassin was. We want Spino blaming the assassination on Ertak. Sergeant Batt was already a dead man when you found him, Cobb. All we have done is made his death serve a purpose.”

  Chapter 2

  Mistaken Valor

  Theos stood in the shadows in the center of the city of Ur. The firebrand mage gazed across the street at the Old Keep where King Mectin lived. Because the king never left the confines of his stronghold, the Tyronian patriots were going to have to find a way to get inside when the time came for the rebellion. Storming the Old Keep could easily result in thousands of patriot deaths, so Theos was searching for an easier way. Infiltrating the enemy ranks had been ruled out as access to the fortress was tightly controlled. Only the most loyal followers of the young king were allowed entry.

  When Theos had first arrived back in Ur, after being dismissed by Fakir Aziz, he would have boasted of his magical abilities and how he could easily breech the walls of the old fortress, but spending time with Karl Gree had changed him. The fiery, untamed temper that burned within Theos was now kept under control, most of the time. It was a constant struggle for the mage, but he knew that the stakes were high. As he had promised the Knight of Alcea, Theos tried to alter the plan each day to save one additional patriot life. As the days flew past, that task became harder and harder.

  Today, Theos was looking for some flaw in the keep’s design that could be exploited. Perhaps he would find a secret exit designed to allow the monarch to flee under siege, or maybe a weakness in the methods the keep’s commander used to rotate his guards.

  Theos had already circled the keep three times since dawn, and he had found nothing. To continue to linger in sight of the keep would only draw unwanted attention to himself, so the mage decided to take a break and walk around the city for a while. Perhaps getting his mind off of the keep for a few minutes would clear his head.

  Theos sighed as he turned and walked away from the keep. His task would be so much easier if he could just get inside and look around. He had discussed this with Karl and Captain Marez, the leader of the Tyronian Patriots, but it had been ruled out as unworkable. Anyone who managed to get inside the Old Keep would surely die before coming out again and describing the layout of the fortress. Theos had suggested sending a fairy in to spy, but Karl had rejected that as well. In addition to the magical black-cloaks quartered inside the Old Keep, K’san, a demonkin, also lived inside. If a fairy were to get caught spying, more would be lost than the life of one fairy. If the Federation learned of the Alceans’ use of fairies, the little people would not be able to accomplish a tiny fraction of what they were doing. The existence of the fairies was one of the biggest secrets in the Alcean arsenal, and Karl was not about to endanger that advantage.

  Theos wandered the streets of the city without a destination in mind. Time and direction had no bearing on the mage as his mind was locked in concentration on the vision of the Old Keep. Had the shouting not been so loud, Theos would never have been alerted to the commotion. The mage blinked and instinctively stepped into the shadows of a nearby alley. Less than a block away, two Federation soldiers had seized a civilian, and the citizens howled in protest. A large crowd started to form as citizens flowed towards the commotion. A whistle blew loudly and soon the sounds of approaching soldiers echoed off the walls of the alley. Theos felt his anger building as a squad of Federation soldiers raced by the alley, but he concentrated on holding his temper in check. It was difficult for the hotheaded mage as these were his people and he had taken a vow to eradicate the Federation and its soldiers.

  The crowd shouted loudly as the soldiers formed a cordon around the captive and the two soldiers who had arrested him. Theos pulled his hood over his fiery red hair and eased out of the alley. It was not his intention to interfere, even though the sight of the brutal soldiers taking one of the citizens would have normally set him off, but his mind had been wrenched from its focus on the Old Keep, and he was curious about the commotion. By the time he reached the crowd, the citizens had quieted down, fearful of the soldiers taking their wrath out on the bystanders. Theos sighed in sympathy and was prepared to circle around the crowd and be on his way. That was when he heard the word patriot mentioned by one of the arresting soldiers. Normally the Federation called them rebels, not patriots. For the soldiers to use the word patriot indicated that the captive was a high-ranking officer in the rebel organization. Theos halted and turned to stare at the captive, who was facing away from him.

  “Are you sure he is a patriot?” asked the sergeant of the squad of soldiers.

  “We are positive,” replied one of the arresting soldiers.

  “We will get him into the Old Keep immediately,” declared the sergeant. “King Mectin will be pleased.”

  “The king will most certainly be pleased,” retorted one of the arresting soldiers, “which is why my partner and I will be taking him in. We did what was necessary to capture him. No one else is going to take the credit.”

  The sergeant glared at the arresting soldiers for a moment before shaking his head. “Neither of you are authorized to enter the Old Keep. I will take the prisoner, but you can be assured that both of you will get credit for his capture.”

  “You just run ahead and tell King Mectin that we are bringing a patriot in,” countered one of the arresting soldiers. If he doesn’t trust us inside the Old Keep, he can just come out and fetch the prisoner himself. We are not turning him over to anyone but the king. This patriot probably knows the entire rebel organization. His capture is worth a great deal, and we mean to enjoy the benefits of his capture.”

  “I will have you working as sentries in the Barrier for this,” spat the sergeant.

  One of the arresting soldiers laughed. “Sergeant, I will outrank you before the sun sets. You won’t be assigning me anywhere. If I were you, I would be careful about giving me such ideas.”

  The sergeant growled in defeat and turned to one of his subordinates. He sent the subordinate to the Old Keep to announce that his squad was bringing in a patriot. As soon as the chosen man was dispatched, the sergeant ordered his men to escort the two arresting soldiers and their captive. While the arresting soldiers would get the credit for the arrest, the sergeant planned to be included when the rewards were handed out.

  As the arresting soldiers led the prisoner away, Theos finally got to s
ee the prisoner’s face. He knew the man to be a close confident of Captain Marez. A shiver raced up the mage’s back as he thought about the implications of Artum’s arrest. Artum certainly could lay out the entire patriot organization for King Mectin, and Theos knew that the prisoner would eventually talk, no matter how loyal he was. K’san had the ability to reach into people’s minds and simply take what he wanted. Theos could not let that happen, but neither could he openly intervene. It was just that sort of intervention that he had been fighting against inside of him since he first arrived in Ur. If he did anything to stop the arrest, he would never get the chance to join in the rebellion, and the patriots would need his magical skills to succeed. Numbed with indecision, the mage cautiously followed the procession of soldiers towards the Old Keep.

  The mage’s wanderings had taken him almost to the city gates, and the trip back to the center of the city was slow. At each intersection, Theos looked around for any patriot that he could find. He desperately wanted to get word to Captain Marez, Karl, or Althea, but he saw no one that he could trust. The closer they got to the city center, the more agitated Theos became. By the time the Old Keep came into view, Theos was agitated beyond measure. If he was to make a decision, the time had arrived. In the end, he found the decision to be remarkably simple.

  As the group of soldiers leading the prisoner started up the walk towards the gates of the Old Keep, Theos halted and brought both arms up before him. Sheets of fire leapt from his fingertips, and he directed the twin attacks to the soldiers flanking the prisoner.

  “Run to me, Artum!” Theos shouted. “Run to me!”

  The flames immediately engulfed the two arresting soldiers, and Theos slowly spread his arms apart, moving the walls of flame away from Artum. This tactic forced the squad of soldiers to move away from the prisoner and the burning corpses of his captors, leaving Artum a clear path of retreat to Theos. Artum was momentarily dazed by the unexpected attack, and he looked around in wonder. When he finally realized what was happening, Artum started running towards Theos, but he never made it to safety. An archer on the walls of the keep let his arrow fly, and the shaft sunk deep into Artum’s back. In a fit of rage, Theos swept his arms apart, engulfing the entire escorting squad in flames.