13 Day War

by Richard S. Tuttle

  Moth soared high over the swamp, but he approached the Federation camp with the night sky in mind. Being careful not to get between the enemy and the moon, the fairy gazed down at the inhospitable terrain. He could see no gypsies in the swamp, and he suddenly remembered Adan’s instructions to fly low. Banking into a steep dive, the fairy shot downward with great speed. The tall grass rose towards him at a dizzying pace. He flared his wings out wide to slow his descent, but it was too little, too late. The tall blades of stiff grass whipped his body as he plowed through them, and he tumbled to the ground.

  Moth pushed himself off the ground, the muck of the swamp sticking to his hands and oozing over his feet. He looked around, but he could not see a single pace in any direction. The grass was thick and tall, and he was stuck in the middle of it. He started tromping through the maze, but he had only gone a little ways when the noises around him caused him to halt in fear. He heard something large slithering through the grass to one side of him, and something very large soared directly overhead, its wings momentarily blotting out the moonlight. Moth shuddered with fear.

  The fairy hesitantly turned towards the slithering noise, his eyes as large as buttons. Frozen with fear, he listened to the sound coming closer. Suddenly he saw the grass stalks moving and then he heard the hiss. A giant snake lifted its head up and sniffed the air, its forked tongue darting in and out of its mouth. Moth panicked. He screamed and ran, his tiny feet sloshing through the muck. The snake must have sensed its prey for it darted towards the fleeing fairy. Moth bounced off stalk after stalk as he hysterically raced for his life, the sounds of the slithering snake gaining on him with every step.

  Eventually, Moth ran out of the patch of grass. He broke out into the open to find himself on the edge of a body of water. He flapped his wings furiously, but he was too exhausted to propel himself off the ground. He just could not get off the ground. Tears came to his eyes as he turned around and watched the giant snake approaching. The slithering beast halted as its tongue detected the fairy. It raised its head and lunged at Moth. The fairy closed his eyes and whimpered. The fairy trembled as he waited for the strike that would end his life, but it never came. Moth opened his eyes and saw the head of the snake mere inches from him, and then it was gone, flung off to some distant place by a large hand.

  “You shouldn’t play in the swamp, Moth,” said the voice. “It is a very dangerous place, especially for fairies.”

  Moth frowned in confusion. He turned and saw an arm sticking out of the water, a human arm. He turned further and stared into the mud-covered face of Mandel. The gypsy was submerged in the water of the swamp, only his head and arm were above the surface.

  “You saved my life,” Moth said with awe and reverence. “I thought I was going to die.”

  “You just might have,” Mandel said compassionately. “It happens to the best of us, but you are alive now. Rejoice and be thankful. What are you doing out here?”

  Moth tried to stop his body from shivering, but he could not. He blushed with embarrassment, knowing that the gypsy had witnessed him cowering in fear. He was ashamed.

  “Adan sent me to deliver a message to you and Hortice. The bridges are being removed and you are authorized to start your part of the mission.”

  “Excellent,” smiled the gypsy. “I will inform Hortice and the others. Do you need help getting aloft?”

  Moth broke down and cried. His head grew light and his limbs trembled so badly that he could not stand. He dropped into a sitting position and let the tears flow freely.

  “I meant no slight by my words,” Mandel said softly. “You have been through a trying ordeal. Even a gypsy would appreciate some help under those conditions.”

  “A gypsy would not cower in fear,” mumbled Moth. “I am fat, and I am useless. And now I am a coward. You should have let the snake eat me.”

  “As long as you are assigned to Adan,” Mandel said caringly, “you are a gypsy, Moth.” Mandel reached out and cupped the fairy with his hand, holding him securely. “I have known fear in my life, and I know what it does to a man. You have no need to be embarrassed. You trying to fight off that snake would be the same as me trying to fend off a dragon. There would be no option but to run for either of us. Calm yourself and then I will give you a boost to get you flying.”

  Moth shook his head. “Adan wants me to stay with you, in case you have need to send a message back.”

  “And you are willing to stay in the swamp?”

  “It is my duty,” answered the fairy. “I have no choice.”

  “We always have a choice, Moth.”

  “I will not abandon my duty,” declared the fairy.

  “Then you are far braver than you think,” smiled Mandel. “Every man knows fear at one time or another. That is nothing to be ashamed of, but it takes true courage to stand firm in the face of fear. Let’s find a reasonably safe perch for you while Hortice and I teach the Federation a lesson.”

  The gypsy moved silently through the water. First he joined up with Hortice and passed along Adan’s message. He then found a small tree for Moth and placed him on a branch as high as he could reach.

  “If the light is good,” Mandel said in parting, “you will have a good view of the action. If you need to, you can glide off your perch to any one of us. Stay dry, my friend.”

  Mandel sunk back into the swamp and moved off towards the enemy encampment, which was well lit with roaring campfires. When he drew close to their perimeter, he met up again with Hortice and the others.

  “The black-cloaks have split up,” stated Hortice. “There are four of them to the right and four to the left.”

  “I will take the left,” stated Mandel. “Take half the men and focus on the mages to the right. It is early yet, so they will not be anxious to confine themselves to the tents. They will probably try to keep near the fires so that the stinging flies and mosquitoes don’t eat them alive. Try to kill them when they wander off to relieve themselves, or anytime that you can get one of them alone. When you have killed them all, return to Moth’s tree.”

  Hortice nodded and selected three men to join him. Mandel led the other three men to the left. The grassy island where the Federation armies were camped was relatively dry ground, but watery channels ran through it in all directions. Sometimes the channels were so narrow that you could step over them, but other times they were wide enough to force you to go around them. Almost all of the channels were fairly deep, even the narrow ones. The setup was ideal for the gypsy mission, and Mandel’s men soon split up to cover as much of the left portion of the encampment as possible. As was Mandel’s nature, he took the most precarious section for himself, never willing to order a man to do something that he would not do himself.

  Mandel was a patient warrior, which was necessary this evening. It took nearly three hours before he finally managed to get near a black-cloak relieving himself. The mage broke away from a group of soldiers near one of the big fires, and the soldiers were glad to see him leave. Mandel anticipated the mage’s path and slowly moved through one of the channels to get close. He eased a reed and a myric quill out of his small quiver and fed the quill into the reed. As the gypsy got into position, he spooked one of the large carnivorous reptiles that had been resting in a dark spot on the mud bank. The large creature slithered off the mud and disappeared under the water. Mandel tried not to think about it. He had run into the creatures several times already, and so far they had not tried to attack him. He hoped his luck endured through the night.

  Moments later, the black-cloak appeared on the bank of the channel. Mandel wasted no time. He brought the reed to his lips and blew the quill into the mage’s stomach. The mage’s body stiffened and fell forward, loudly splashing into the water, directly onto the giant reptile that had moved away from the gypsy. The creature immediately attacked the mage’s body, thrashing violently as its massive jaws clamped down on the black-cloak’s leg. The beast shook the body noisily and then dragged it under the water, but not b
efore some soldiers had taken notice of the event. Mandel smiled as he put the reed to his lips and slid under the water before the running soldiers arrived to gawk at the black-cloak’s demise.

  Hours later, Mandel and his men met up with Hortice below the tree where Moth was perched. The eight gypsies were waterlogged and tired.

  “We have failed,” sighed Hortice.

  “Seven out of eight is not exactly a failure,” replied Mandel, “but neither is it a success. Perhaps the last black-cloak will come out of his tent early in the morning.”

  “Why don’t we go in the tent and finish this?” asked Hortice.

  “Because we have been forbidden to do so,” answered Mandel. “Were it up to me, that is exactly what I would do, but Adan has made it clear that the gypsies will not enter the mage’s tents.”

  “One battle mage can kill hundreds of our people,” protested Hortice. “They must all die for this trap to work.”

  “You will get no argument from me,” Mandel agreed, “but we will follow our orders. If the last mage does not give us the opportunity we need by dawn, you will take the rest of the men back to dry ground.”

  “And you will do what?” frowned Hortice. “You will attack him in broad daylight on the trail tomorrow? That is suicide.”

  “I am not happy about our choices,” frowned Mandel, “but I understand what must be done. The last black-cloak will die before he gets back to where the bridges were. I will not allow him to kill our people.”

  “I am not forbidden from entering the tent,” chirped Moth.

  The gypsies glanced up at the chubby fairy.

  “We need to do more than just put him asleep,” stated Hortice.

  “And you cannot levitate him out of the tent without getting caught,” added Mandel.

  “I will stab him with a quill,” Moth said with determination.

  One of the gypsies laughed and Mandel shot the man a glare. The laugh died instantly.

  “You carrying a quill would be like one of us holding a tree out before us,” said Hortice. “Even if you could carry it, a fairy would never have enough force to stab it into the mage’s body.”

  “I can do it,” declared the fairy. “Will you sacrifice your people because you do not believe me?”

  “You do not have to do this to impress us, Moth,” Mandel said softly. “We are already impressed with the fairy people.”

  “You said earlier that we always have choices, Mandel,” retorted the fairy. “I am making this choice because I believe that I will be successful where others cannot be, not to impress you. Will you deny me my chance to strike out at evil?”

  Mandel stared at the little man, and he liked what he saw. He smiled and nodded. “I will give you whatever chance you want, Moth, but I expect you to act with clear thought and without emotion. Can you promise me that?”

  “I can and I do,” the fairy said with confidence. “Ready me a quill. I will be right back.”

  Moth took a running leap off the branch. His body dropped towards the ground, but his wings soon provided the lift he needed. He soared skyward and headed for the Federation encampment. The mage tent was not hard to find, and he flew right into it. For a moment, he hovered in the dark staring at the empty bunks. When he found the bunk that was occupied, he noted its location and retreated outside. He flew up and landed on the roof of the tent and visualized where the occupied bunk was below. He then found the nearest seam and pulled his knife. It took him several minutes to cut through the stitching with his knife, but when he was done, the section of the roof over the sleeping black-cloak hung down into the tent. Moth sheathed his knife and threw himself off the roof. Minutes later he landed on the tree branch above the gypsies.

  “Hand me a quill,” ordered the fairy.

  Mandel extracted a quill and held it out for the fairy to grasp. Moth grabbed it with both hands and held it above his head. His little face frowned as he tried to figure out how to launch himself.

  “Would you like a boost?” asked Mandel.

  “Yes,” the fairy nodded enthusiastically.

  Mandel held out his palm and let Moth walk onto it. When the fairy signaled that he was ready, Mandel tossed the fairy high into the air. Moth’s wings beat frantically, but the boost had worked well. Before Moth reached the apex of the toss, his wings were already carrying him higher. He continued high into the sky before turning and heading towards the camp. When he was over the opening in the mage tent, he tilted the quill and let its weight pull him into a dive. Moth dove with a speed he had never achieved before, the extra weight propelling him downward at a frantic pace. He soared through the hole in the roof and the quill slammed into the mage. The force of the collision tossed the fairy roughly to the floor, but Moth stood up and dusted himself off, a wide grin spreading across his face.

  Chapter 32

  Day Ten

  The soldiers of the advance scouting squad of Fortella’s 2nd Corps of the Empire of Barouk were up early as they usually were. Dawn would not arrive for an hour, but their task required an early departure. The twenty men lit a small cooking fire, although there was precious little to cook. The caches had all been found empty so far, and the unseen Alceans continued to snipe at the foragers each night. The men brewed a pot of tea and checked their weapons, a daily routine that was more habit than thoughtful.

  “Foggy,” one of the men remarked.

  “Comes with camping beside the river,” replied another man. “It will lift when the dawn arrives.”

  The squad leader stood and stretched, tossing the rest of his tea into the fire. “We won’t be here to see it lift,” he quipped. “Finish up and get mounted. It is time to check the road ahead.”

  “Just to find another empty cache,” one of the soldiers said softly as the sergeant strode away from the group. “I wish General Fortella would authorize an attack on these unseen Alceans. Then we could get some decent foraging done. There can’t be more than a hundred of them out there.”

  “Why don’t you go to the general’s tent and wake him?” taunted one of the other soldiers. “I am sure that he will be interested in your suggestion.”

  The men all laughed as they doused the fire and headed towards the corral. Within minutes they were mounted and riding out of the camp. The sergeant took the point as he led his men downstream to the bridge that crossed the Boulder River. The bridge was an old wooden-planked structure with stone pillars supporting its long spans across the wide, swiftly flowing Boulder River. The horses’ hooves tromped loudly in the stillness of the early morning, and the fog gave the sounds an eerie, almost spooky, quality. The fog persisted all the way across the river and well into the forest beyond, but the advance squad eventually emerged out of it. As dawn lightened the sky, the horsemen found their spirits lifted.

  The Mya-Tagaret Road was well traveled and well maintained. It was broad and level for the most part, but there were no other travelers this day, nor did the squad expect any. It was clear from the empty caches that the Alceans knew that the armies were advancing towards Tagaret, but there had been no attacks, other than sniping at the foragers. The typical Federation soldier thought that the Alceans seemed content to try to starve the Federation soldiers into retreating. Such a retreat was a laughable premise to anyone who had ever served under General Fortella. The Baroukan general did not know the meaning of retreat, and he was not about to learn it.

  The sun was already well into the sky when the men began suggesting a halt for the midday meal, which would actually be little more than a rest and stretch break. The sergeant put the men off, hoping to cover another league before stopping. As they rounded a bend in the road, the squad leader suddenly halted and held his hand up to bring the rest of the riders to a stop. Huge trees blocked the road ahead, but the trees were not merely felled across the road, which would be bad enough to slow down the column for a few hours. The trees were felled in such a way as to present a multitude of branches pointing directly towards the Federation column. The ser
geant sighed deeply as he imagined how long it would take to clear the road. All of the branches would have to be hacked off before men could even approach the trunk, and if the position was defended by the Alceans… He did not want to think about it.

  “Abatis,” scowled the sergeant. “I want the forests on both sides of the road searched for an alternate path around this obstacle. Proceed cautiously, and remember that we are in hostile territory.”

  The sergeant pointed to individual riders and then pointed in the direction they should search. Five men were dispatched to his right and five more were sent into the woods to his left. The remaining ten men moved away from the barricade and dismounted.

  “This is different,” commented one of them who had remained with the sergeant. “Do you think they plan to attack the column here?”

  “It may just be to slow down the column,” answered the sergeant, “but I would be foolish to assume that. Our task is to find a way around it and then report back to the column. If we do not find an alternate route close by, we will backtrack to find an alternate road to Tagaret. Cleaning up this obstacle might take the better part of a day, and General Fortella will not stand for that.”

  The sounds of snapped bowstrings sang out from both sides of the road. The sergeant turned and leaped onto his horse before the first of the screams reached his ears.

  “Mount up!” shouted the sergeant.

  “Fight or flee?” one of the men asked as he mounted his horse.

  “We need to carry word to the general,” answered the sergeant. “Retreat!”

  The sergeant recognized the ambush for what it was. He knew that staying and fighting would only serve the enemy’s purpose, otherwise the Alceans would not have attacked. He kicked his horse into a gallop and called out for his men to follow him. Only moments later he heard more cries from his men, but the cries were close behind him. He turned and looked back to see his men falling off their horses as unseen archers alongside the road let their arrows fly. The sergeant put his head down and coaxed as much speed out of his horse as he could. After a minute of galloping along the road, he breathed a slow sigh of relief. He sat up and gazed back towards the ambush site, but he could see no pursuit. Thankful that he had been spared the fate of his men, the sergeant turned around to see two men standing in the road before him. His heart skipped a beat as he wondered whether to halt and seek safety in the forest or try to race through them. He drew his sword and shouted a war cry, but the men were unshaken. They each nocked an arrow and aimed at the charging rider. The sergeant stared at them and blinked.