13 Day War

by Richard S. Tuttle

  The colonel hesitated, but he eventually nodded silently.

  “Many of the men are taking our situation too casually,” declared the sergeant, “particularly in regards to sentry duty. My squad was just replaced on the western perimeter by a squad that wouldn’t see a dragon approaching until it ate them. The sad part is that such a squad is not an exception in the 17th Corps right now. The men have grown complacent, Colonel. They act as if we are back in Valdo protecting a supply depot, as if they can’t wait until their duty is up so they can visit the nearest tavern. They need to be reminded that we are in enemy territory.”

  Before the colonel could reply, the ground trembled. The eyes of both men widened in alarm as the trembling grew more intense. Small debris began falling from the trees and tents began to collapse. The sergeant and the colonel instinctively reached out for each other to steady themselves as men walking through the camp stumbled and fell. As the trembling intensified, a roaring wind began to blow through the camp. The wind whipped up walls of dirt which blasted everything in its path. Tents were ripped from the ground and sent flying away. Sparks from the campfires shot through the air, burning holes in the tents and searing the flesh of anyone unfortunate enough to be caught downwind.

  “This is magic,” hissed Colonel Shellard. “I bet an attack will soon follow. Run to the western perimeter and replace that incompetent sergeant. Take over his squad and prepare them to repel attackers. I will need a runner, so send their sergeant to me. I will be in General Kozinski’s tent.”

  Sergeant Dilney broke away from the colonel and raced towards the western perimeter. Waves of dirt blackened the already darkening dusk, but the sergeant had a good sense of direction. He ran blindly through the camp, quickly picking himself up each time the moving ground tripped him. He felt numerous stings from flying sparks, but he ignored them. All around him, the soldiers were panicking. The dirt-filled air was saturated with shouts of alarm and cries of pain. He ignored them as well.

  As Sergeant Dilney approached the western perimeter, the wind seemed to die down, and the trembling of the ground lessened. He halted his mad rush by grabbing onto a tree and stared in confusion at the sight before him. At first all he saw were the sentries of the western perimeter stretched out on the ground, but then arrows streaked out of the trees and other soldiers fell. With no squad for him to command, Sergeant Dilney quickly moved behind the tree and peered around it. Cries of pain ripped through the air as hundreds of arrows flew into the camp.

  Several captains shouted orders in an attempt to organize a defense of the camp. They ordered their companies to form shield walls and prepare to assault the forest with waves of arrows, but the enemy gave them no time to organize. Another volley of arrows from the forest was followed by a mounted charge. Sergeant Dilney watched with rapt fascination as black-clad warriors surged out of the trees and attacked the Spinoan soldiers. The sergeant’s eyes were quickly drawn to one imposing warrior with long golden hair tied in a tail. The Alcean moved like a specter through the Spinoan ranks, his long two-handed sword drawing blood with each swing and back swing. Sergeant Dilney shuddered as the Alceans advanced, cutting down everything in their path. He turned and ran towards the center of the camp.

  When Sergeant Dilney reached the center of the camp, he found both command tents collapsed in tatters. Pandemonium reigned as officers shouted orders, and runners ran off to carry messages to distant companies. The sergeant saw Colonel Shellard and ran to him, but he halted wordlessly upon arrival. The colonel was dispatching troops to reinforce the camp’s defenders, and the sergeant thought someone else had already delivered the bad news. He realized his error when the southern perimeter was mentioned as the location of the attack.

  “Colonel,” the sergeant said loudly with an urgent tone. “The southern perimeter is not the only attack. The western perimeter is being overrun by Alceans.”

  The colonel turned with alarm on his face. “How many attackers?”

  “Hundreds,” answered the sergeant, “maybe thousands. I did not stay to take count of them, but they are cutting their way into the camp without much opposition. Hundreds of our men were struck down in the initial volley, and the Alceans charged before a defensive shield could be formed. The barrier didn’t even slow them down.”

  The colonel did not answer immediately. When he eventually spoke, Sergeant Dilney thought his voice was amazingly calm considering the situation.

  “Sergeant,” ordered Colonel Shellard, “I want you to personally check the northern and eastern perimeters. Carry word back to me if we are under attack from those quarters as well. If we are not, inform the perimeter guards to expect an attack at any moment.”

  “Just the northern perimeter and hurry,” countermanded General Kozinski as he joined the conversation. “There is nothing but sea to the east of us.”

  “There is enough forest to conceal a rather large army,” countered the colonel.

  “The Alceans don’t have enough men to cover all four sides,” retorted the general. “I would be surprised to even find any enemy to our north, but I want to be sure. Besides, General Bledsoe’s men are camped in the southern and eastern sectors of the camp. We need to concern ourselves with the west and the north. Hurry along, Sergeant.”

  The sergeant saluted and turned to race northward, but he heard the general’s next words before he was out of range.

  “Recall our troops, Colonel,” said the general. “I want our men dispatched to reinforce the western perimeter. General Bledsoe will have to use just the 7th Corps to defend the south.”

  Sergeant Dilney ran hard, thankful that the trembling ground and roaring wind had ceased. Without having to suffer the effects of the magical attack, the sergeant was able to weave his way through the camp without delay. As he ran northward, he could hear the sounds of fighting off to his left. He frowned heavily because the fighting sounded much too close. The perimeter was a fair distance away, and he doubted that the black-clad warriors could have penetrated so deeply into the camp in such a short time. He wondered if there was another attack force that the general was not aware of.

  As the sergeant approached the northern perimeter, he saw thousands of Federation soldiers streaming from the southwest. Several companies of soldiers stood blocking the northern perimeter facing south. Shouted voices started to reach the sergeant’s ears, and he frowned in confusion.

  “They are not human,” shouted one of the soldiers. “You cannot fight against something that will not die.”

  “Get back to your assigned positions, or you will die right here,” retorted a colonel. “I will not say it again. My next words will be for my men to fire arrows into the lot of you. Move!”

  The complaining soldiers turned and moved off, but their pace was hesitant. Sergeant Dilney made for the perimeter barricade, and the soldiers before him drew their swords and converged on him. The colonel who had just rebuked the others turned towards Dilney with contempt clearly on his face.

  “I cannot stomach cowards,” the colonel scowled. “Hang him as an example to the others.”

  Sergeant Dilney shouted in horror as he realized that the colonel was talking about him. “Wait! I was sent by General Kozinski to check the northern perimeter. Have you all gone mad?”

  “I know you,” scowled the colonel. “Your squad has sentry duty on the western perimeter.”

  “It did until just recently,” admitted Sergeant Dilney, “but their time is over. I went to Colonel Shellard to report the attack in the west and General Kozinski sent me up here to see if you were also under attack. What is going on?”

  The colonel hesitated and then waved away the sword-bearing guards. “Your brethren at the western perimeter are fleeing the battle like the cowards they are. They think they can flee into the woods to the north. They are afraid of fighting spirits.”

  “We are not being attacked by spirits,” replied the sergeant. “I saw the black-clad men. They are warriors of supreme quality, but they are men
just like you and me. I take it that the northern perimeter is free of the enemy?”

  “No,” answered the colonel. “I have already dispatched a runner to General Kozinski. You must have passed him on the way here.”

  Sergeant Dilney turned and gazed across the barricade. It was already too dark to see very far, but he thought he could make out several bodies stretched out on the road.

  “What is out there?” he asked.

  “I do not know,” answered the colonel. “Some of the cowards got over the barricade before I spread my men out. I gave the order to cut them down, but it was unnecessary. The Alceans did it for us.”

  “General Kozinski needs to know what we are facing,” stated the sergeant.

  The colonel nodded. “I have been waiting for the order to check it out.” The colonel waved for a captain to come to him. “I want your company to find out what the enemy has out there. Do not engage the Alceans. Just determine their number and return. Be careful. With everything else going on today they are likely to attack without warning.”

  The captain saluted and ran off to gather his men. Moments later one-hundred mounted Federation soldiers stood ready to journey out of the encampment. Sergeant Dilney listened as the captain addressed his men.

  “I want one squad to move quietly through the trees east of the road,” instructed the captain. “Another squad will do the same on the west side of the road. The rest of us will give you a head start and then come up the road at a gallop. As soon as we make contact, we will turn and retreat. We do not plan to dally long so pay attention. Keep your eyes sharp to see who attacks us. I want estimates of their strength. Once you have that estimate, quietly retreat through the forest. Questions?”

  There were no questions and men moved the barricade to allow the cavalry to pass through. Two squads exited the camp and immediately moved off the road and into the trees. The other three squads sat in the middle of the road and waited. When the captain thought enough time had passed, he simply brought his arm up and pointed northward. Three squads of Federation cavalry raced northward along the Coastal Highway. Sergeant Dilney stood next to the colonel and watched them disappear into the darkness. Moments later, the sounds of loud explosions ripped through the air. Cries, shouts, and screams of anguish split the night. Suddenly, the road north of the camp glowed fiery red and flames shot up into the air. Just as suddenly, the area returned to darkness, and the battlefield fell silent. The sentries manning the barricade glanced nervously at one another, wondering if they should keep the barricade open or close it. They looked to the colonel for an answer, but the colonel stood still, staring northward. For several tense moments, no one moved or spoke. Then, through the eerie silence, a single horse’s hooves sounded on the road. Soldiers readied their bows and nocked arrows, waiting for the order to fire, but no order was given.

  As the horse came closer, the red uniform of a Federation soldier could be seen. The men manning the barricade uttered muffled gasps before Sergeant Dilney could understand what was coming into the camp. A moment later, he understood. A lone soldier rode his horse through the barricade at a walk. His uniform was shredded and bloody, and he had three arrows sticking out of his chest. One side of the horse bled profusely, thousands of small wooden splinters sticking out of its flesh. The soldier’s mouth moved, but the voice was so soft that the sergeant could not hear the words. He ran to get closer, but he was too late. Both horse and rider fell to the ground, dead.

  “What did he say?” the sergeant asked the sentries.

  “Just four words,” answered one sentry. “Archers, unicorns, mages, thousands.”

  “Close the barricade,” the colonel ordered loudly before turning to the sergeant and whispering, “Carry his words to General Kozinski, and be quick about it. If such a force decides to attack, we will have trouble keeping the men from turning tail.”

  The sergeant nodded silently and started running southward. Keeping in mind the encroaching Alcean black-clad warriors to the west, he curved eastward as he raced towards the center of the encampment. He was halfway between the northern perimeter and the center of the camp when he came across one of his own men. The man was running from the eastern perimeter, and Sergeant Dilney altered course to head the man off. He halted in front of the running soldier and demanded that he stop.

  “What are you doing in the east?” scowled the sergeant. “Why aren’t you fighting the Alceans in the west?”

  “No one is fighting the Alceans in the west,” answered the soldier. “They all fled. I had no choice but to follow. I thought maybe we were ordered to a larger attack in the east, but that was not the case. The first to flee must have overpowered the eastern perimeter guards and tried to escape, but only death awaits us that way.”

  “What are you talking about?” the sergeant asked angrily.

  “Dragons,” the man answered with a tremor in his voice. “Scores of them have gathered by the sea. I would rather die to an arrow than in the jaws of those monsters.”

  “You will die by hanging if you don’t gather the rest of our squad and fight the Alceans coming through our sector,” snapped the sergeant. “I have to report to General Kozinski, but I will be heading to the west as soon as I am done. If you are not there before me, you had better already be dead.”

  Sergeant Dilney did not wait for a response. He turned and continued his run towards the center of the camp. When he arrived, he found the general in the midst of total chaos. He quickly explained what had transpired in the north, adding in the fact that men from the west were fleeing from the attackers. He then mentioned what his own man had told him of the east. The general shook his head and sighed heavily.

  “Colonel,” the general said to Colonel Shellard who had been standing close enough to hear the report, “I want our command center moved northwest. We need to be closer to the action. Send out runners to tell every regiment commander that they are to gain control over their men and report to me at the new command center. We are gathering in force to present a proper defense.”

  “We are abandoning the barricades?” the colonel asked with a frown.

  “Blast the barricades, Colonel. Did you not hear this man’s report? We are losing control over our army. Plant a flag one-thousand paces northwest of here and call it the command center. I want the entire 17th Corps to gather there and present a solid circle of shields to the enemy. The Alceans do not have enough men to beat us unless they can scare our men senseless. I will not allow that to happen.”

  Chapter 46

  Alcean Retreat

  Colonel Sawar of the 7th Corps of the Empire of Barouk had just finished checking on the southern perimeter of Team Miram’s camp when the ground began to tremble. He was already halfway back to the command tent and torn as to which way to go. He did not think the earthquake was natural. In fact, he felt it was the opening salvo of a battle with the Alceans. Figuring that General Bledsoe must have felt the trembling as well, and understood its significance, he turned around and began running back towards the southern perimeter to organize the defense. That was when the fierce winds struck out of the south. The first gust of wind lifted the colonel off his feet and slammed him into a tree. Pinned to the tree by the ferocious windstorm, the colonel raised his arms and covered his face. Pebbles and twigs blasted the colonel’s body, but the wind carried something much more ominous, the sounds of battle.

  After a while, the winds abated enough for Colonel Sawar to push off the tree. He struggled against the wind as fast as he could towards the southern perimeter with his eyes barely open. He had covered more than half the distance to the barricade when the wind suddenly died. The colonel opened his eyes fully and saw that the enemy was already past the barricade. He saw the king and queen of Alcea in shining white and gold battle attire riding at the head of the Alcean army. He gawked at the horns protruding from the unicorns’ heads and watched with amazement as both the king and queen swung their long, two-handed swords with seeming ease. Federation soldiers o
n both sides of the royal couple fell with mortal wounds, but the most gruesome deaths were the two red-clad soldiers who were unfortunate enough to be in the way of the charging unicorns. The unicorns lowered their heads in unison and gored the soldiers with their long horns, flipping the gutted bodies aside without breaking stride.

  The colonel anxiously glanced right and left of the royal couple and saw Alceans as far as he could see in each direction. The Federation soldiers along the southern perimeter were retreating before the enemy charge, but not in a panic. The Federation soldiers retreated in as orderly fashion as possible given the sudden onslaught. Here and there a shield wall was established, but the Alceans quickly outflanked the uncoordinated efforts. The colonel knew that it would take some organization to prevent a rout. He turned around and ran towards the center of the camp.

  As he ran towards the center of the camp, the colonel came upon troops rushing towards the fighting. He waved for the men to halt and then called for the company commanders to gather around him.

  “We need a defensive shield line right here,” stated Colonel Sawar. “I want it to eventually spread the entire width of the camp with wings to protect our flanks, but we will have to start it smaller until more men arrive. For now, form it two rows deep and as long as we can. We will lengthen it later.”

  The company commanders nodded in understanding and began deploying their men. Colonel Sawar, knowing that his orders would be carried out, broke into a run for the large command tent. When he arrived, he saw that the tent had been destroyed. He glanced around and found General Bledsoe issuing orders to several colonels. He ran to the general to report.

  “King Arik and thousands of his men have penetrated the camp via the southern barricade,” the colonel reported. “Our men are not able to repulse them, but I have started a shield line a fair distance behind our front lines. We need more men to reinforce it.”