The God Warriors

by Sean Liebling

  "An amazing answer and one I agree with. I would have done the same if placed in your boots. I will admit, I am feeling a lot more relieved about you, Sir John. Frankly, I was worried I was handing command over to a dullard. You have set my mind at ease in that regard. Now, let's discuss our current strategy and how you would conduct a war campaign, given what we know."

  "All right, but first, let me be clear on one very important aspect. I am not taking your command from you. If your alliance supports me, I have no intention of looking over your shoulder every moment. I would simply issue directives. Outline what needs done, offer some basic solutions, and let you go about it within the guidelines and timeframes I set. In war, it's all about getting your assets to the right place at the right time. Well, there is also slowing down the enemy with the least number of casualties. Honestly, I cannot count the number of campaigns where I wished I had one more day to prepare, or better yet, one month. But you make do with what you have, where you have it, and plan accordingly." John finished, waiting on the other man's response, and it was not long in arriving.

  "Truer words have never been spoken. You indeed have the mind of a warlord. Now, please tell us your thoughts."

  The general was kind enough to include everyone in the room for they were all listening in rapt fascination. John's adlibbed stories had impressed and captivated his audience, and now it was time to outline a basic strategy. Pulling out his notes, he started.

  "Remember, our goal would be to conserve as many of our assets as possible, while bleeding the enemy steadily. I hope that to the point they give up. I would keep most of your strongholds where they are for now, with one notable exception. I would actually add one to the southeast corner within a half-day's ride of the Kuthari border. You did indicate if the north attacked, the Kuthari would probably side with them. There is a rock quarry very near there. Using the soldiers to help build, a fortress could be created quickly. If you don't, and the Kuthari do attack, you've major trouble on your hands. They'll destroy every village and city between there and the capital. You'll be forced to pull troops from either the capital or the northern outposts to drive them back and then defend your southern reaches. You really should have one there already." John pondered the thought for a moment, and the general spoke up in the silence.

  "Actually, that's been planned for several hundred years. We've simply not received the funding for such a project."

  "Use the soldiers. They are just sitting around anyway. Give them an incentive if you feel the need to. Perhaps extra food, or a few pennies extra a month, or whatever inexpensive incentive there is," responded John promptly. "You could also solicit suggestions from the troops. Get their input. It will make them feel important. After all, you don't have to follow the suggestions, only the good ones, but I would bet they would work harder with less grumbling if you did so." Now he grinned and waited.

  "By the Goddess Hera, that would work. I'm sure of it!" A murmur of agreement ran through the two dozen men standing around them.

  "Okay, second easy thing. I understand the Jordachian's have women in their ranks. Why don't you?"

  "Actually we call them the Jordache, even in plural form. However, the answer is simple, and that is because we have never had the need. The Jordache do what they want, and we do what we want."

  "Bad answer. Let me ask you this. Did women fight for Korath in the last great war?"

  "Of course! They had to. We were losing. Too many of them died during that time, also."

  "Uh huh, and would that be why the Jordache still have women in their ranks that are properly trained and can fight as good as any man, given the situation?" John saw those around him looking at each other in realization, so he pressed his advantage. "And, would it be fair to say that a substantially less number of women would have died during the last great war if they had been properly trained?" A long silence ensued, and John sat back while whispered conversations erupted around him.

  "Of course, you're correct, Sir John, but it's simply never been done but for that one time. I doubt any woman would want to join the guard."

  "Oh, I would put good money down that they would, General. I think you'll have more volunteers than you can handle. My advice is this. Find a Jordache ex-military man or woman and get a copy of their entrance requirements and training regimen. Not all women will make a good soldier. Use the Jordache example because it obviously works!"

  "All right. I agree because it's a good idea that will save lives in the event we have another great war. I will have a proposal drawn up and sent to the King. What else?"

  "Guerrilla warfare! There were many wars won on my old planet using just guerrilla warfare, with no heavy engagements. It may not win this war, but it could sure bleed the enemy badly when we finally do clash. Bleeding the enemy means fewer deaths for the Korath guard."

  "What type of warfare is that?"

  "It's a form of irregular warfare, and it's simple. You divide a portion of your guard into much smaller groups of combatants. These small groups typically operate behind enemy borders using tactics that include ambushing supply columns, raiding small villages, killing or capturing livestock, destroying crops and bridges, and interrupting water supplies. Basically, hit and run tactics that bleed the enemy. I will give you an example. Let us say you find the location of a large body of enemy troops. Maybe they are too big to take on with your forces at hand, so you've sent for reinforcements, but it could be weeks before they get there. In the meantime, you pray to the gods the enemy will not attack before additional help arrives, and if they do attack, your only option is to retreat or suffer massive casualties. Right?" Everyone looked shocked at his latest suggestion, but all nodded. John continued. By now, John was in his element. He thrived on irregular warfare. He paced back and forth and waved his arms for emphasis as he warmed to his favorite subject.

  "Right, so you infiltrate their line with several small bands of specialized troops trained to fight in silence and make little noise. You send these and have them ambush the supply caravans, raid, and kill all the enemy troops in a few of their villages. Burn some crops, perhaps drive a few large herds of their cattle through their main encampment. Before you know it, those infiltrators will have siphoned off half of the enemy's main body of troops, because they will not let their fellow warriors just die or their livelihood be destroyed. That provides your main body of guards with the perfect opportunity to attack in force. The roles reversed, causing them massive casualties. Just remember to retreat to a more defensible location once the enemies’ reinforcements arrive." By now, the general was simply looking at him.

  "Can you tell me where the honor is in fighting that way?"

  "Can you tell me how it is honorable to show your enemy more honor than you show your own people, General?" John shot back instantly.

  "What do you mean?"

  "Honor is everything, but it is a two edged sword. Do you accord honor to an enemy that attacks without provocation? Do you accord honor to an enemy that kills innocents of your people and uses their own children to fight their battles? Is it honorable to allow your women and young daughters to be raped and enslaved, forced to breed? You give the enemy more honor than you give your own people.

  "But is it honorable to stoop to their level?"

  "That is not a well thought out question. Let me answer with this. A famous general of my world once said, ‘The goal of war is to win. Otherwise, you are dishonoring your family, your friends, your fallen comrades, your country, and your people. The object of war is not to die for your country with honor, but to make the other man die for his, thus preserving those you hold dear to your heart.’ So, really, the question you all need to ask yourselves is this: If you show your enemy more honor than you show your own people, or the enemy shows you, is that not an act of dishonor to your people? Those you love, care for, and cherish? You know they will kill all of us: men, women, and children, except for those few they keep as slaves. They do not want you subjugated; they want y
our land with you dead and rotting in the fields for crop fertilizer."

  "This is a fight for survival, General. Do not dishonor those you swore an oath to protect and serve by showing the enemy more honor than you would your own. Well, unless all you really wish to do is hang out in heaven and clap each other on the back, telling stories about how honorable you were while getting your entire race and everyone you ever loved destroyed. How your daughters were brutally raped, then slowly murdered because you gave the enemy more honor than you did them. I do not know about all of you, but I am a father of a daughter, a little older than the King’s oldest, and I'm also a grandfather. I would do anything to keep my daughter and my grandson safe, anything at all, honor be damned. Because when my daughter, my precious little girl, was growing up, sleeping in her tiny room with her stuffed animals and girl things, monsters came to her in a dream. She woke up screaming for her daddy to save her, and you know what, gentlemen?"

  "Daddy came to her rescue, and held her in his arms and drove the nightmares and bad things away. Daddy held her tight and swore by all the gods in heaven to protect his little girl or die trying. It was the only way to stop the nightmares, to make her feel safe, because she trusted me and knew I would protect her. I meant those words. Think about it. What will you do for your family, when you're lying dead on the battlefield being honorable to an enemy that doesn't even understand the concept, and the nightmares come for your children?" With that, John turned and walked out the door, taking his notes with him, the Lorr wolves and Alvaldi following closely behind.

  [I think you went a little overboard there, John.] Ares sounded apprehensive in his thoughts, but John had a low tolerance for stupidity.

  Nope!

  Little did John realize that the debate his words created would last for days…

  ~Ares~

  [Mother, I feel we should have a talk about our joint champion. I feel some of his…exuberance, should be suppressed. What are your thoughts?] said Ares in a worried tone.

  [I think Shianna should be part of this conversation, and now that she has been updated, what are your thoughts, Shianna?] The warm feeling of Hera came through calmly.

  [I think it is about time we had a champion that knew what he was doing. Before I witnessed his conversation with the Korath General, I was confident you had made the right choice, Hera. I heard just a small part of his plans, and trust me, I'm in his mind right now, and it's buzzing with potential possibilities. I feel that not only will this champion prevail, but he will not stop at simply driving the enemy back across the border with the least number of casualties. He will take the fight to them, while completely destroying their ability to wage war in the future, even if it means putting all of them to the sword. There is no mercy in this champion, and right now, we need that. He also values life, which is a good trait to have in a leader. Ares, if you try to tamper with his mind, you will answer to me!] responded the cold and very hard voice of Shianna.

  [I concur with Shianna. No tampering, my son. Simply support where needed,] said Hera.

  [I just hope his actions do not jeopardize what we hope to accomplish,] grumbled Ares.

  [So far, they won't. It might behoove you to look into the minds of the general and his men. I think you might be surprised,] replied Hera.

  Chapter 9

  ~Thorvald, the Thana~

  Thorvald Gunderson threw the reports down and roared with fury. He just read the latest reports on the disaster at Ashstone. Almost eight thousand dead, and the body count was still rising. Thank the gods that the safety protocols had held or the body count would have been five hundred thousand. When the mountain rumbled and cracks first appeared, levers were pulled, chutes were opened, and when the lava came, it funneled into a nearby flue to empty into the ocean almost a hundred miles away. However, not before it wiped out thousands of homes, killing thousands more. Even where Thorvald sat, in Groundhome, over a hundred miles away, they felt the tremor and knew something was wrong.

  Ashstone, known for its tin and minor jewel deposits, held a population in the hundreds of thousands, approaching a half million and was a thriving center of commerce. Now, it was a disaster area that would not see active mining for years to come. The death toll among Thana alone was horrendous, and Thorvald burned with rage at the why of it, for he knew there would be more deaths due to smoke and fume inhalation, even though the ventilation pumps were working overtime.

  "Get that wizard in here now!" he screamed in fury at his subordinate, Eric Fortson. The man left so quickly he seemed to disappear, even though his size was large, and Thorvald passed the time by breaking things within his office. He had almost given up waiting when the door flew open with Eric dragging Regin Berthorson in by his robes. Thorvald knew the wizards could communicate with each other over distances. It was how he stayed in touch with the many cities the Thana populated.

  "What in the twenty levels of Shianna took you so long, Wizard?" roared Thorvald.

  "Sire." For Thorvald Gunderson was the King of Earthhaven, the home of the Thana. "I needed to consult the Head Priest first. It is as I suspected but I needed confirmation!" the wizard stuttered.

  "Would you get to the point, you blithering idiot?" his king demanded.

  "Mortis says it was Logi, and that's why our wizards and priests detected nothing until it was too late." Regin said, informing Thorvald that it was the Jugazi's, god of Chaos that caused the destruction.

  "What? No. That cannot be. We have an understanding with Logi. Especially after he and Mortis fought, the last time Logi tried something similar. Why would he do this?"

  "The Jugazi." Thorvald's fury burned incandescent at that short answer, and he turned to his advisor, Eric, again.

  "Get all my advisors, Eric, and this time don't take so long, or I'll yank out those gold teeth you're so proud of, one by one, with my bare hands. Wizard, you stay here."

  A chorus of "Yes, Sire" rang out, and one man disappeared like a puff of wind while the other stayed. As soon as Eric left, Thorvald turned to the wizard.

  "Will it happen again? Did you happen to ask the priest that?"

  "Maybe, and yes." Thorvald headed around his desk, murder in his eyes at the short answer, and the wizard immediately held up placating hands speaking quickly. "The Head Priest says Mortis cannot promise to catch Logi every time. He will try, but Logi is unpredictable and is very clever at seeming to appear in one place, while actually wreaking havoc in another. Mortis says he will do his best, but he must preserve his strength in case of need in the upcoming war."

  "You're speaking of the new war the dark ones intend to pursue with the southern countries. What matter is that of ours? Mortis is our god, not theirs," said Thorvald with a growl.

  "Have you forgotten your history lessons so quickly, my King?" asked Regin.

  "No. Well, maybe. It was a couple hundred years ago since I was a kid, and I always hated reading, even now. So, refresh my memory, Regin." King Thorvald returned to his chair behind the desk and settled back, waiting for his Chief Wizard to begin.

  "Very well, Sire," he began. "Eons ago, the Thana did not live on this planet. Instead, we came from another in a different universe, in fact. It was a beautiful world, even more so than this one. Rugged peaks so tall a man could not breathe at their tops and active volcanoes strewn everywhere but one area, the South Pole. The southernmost tip of the planet remained shrouded in ice, due to the tilt of the planet as it circled the sun. Small seas and large lakes dotted the land here and there, and it was a paradise. The people were fat and happy. Our God Mortis was very good to us, seeing to our every need." Regin stopped for the moment and coughed a few times while rubbing his throat, looking longingly at the sideboard where sat a barrel of premium ale fit for a king, which was the reason it was sitting there. Thorvald rolled his eyes and got up to fill a tankard for the wizard, also drawing one for himself.

  "Here you go, Wizard, but you get the next one," said Thorvald as he growled again. The Thana did not stand on
much ceremony and were a practical people. Taking a large swallow of his own, he impatiently started tapping his foot after sitting.

  "Ah, thank you, Sire," Regin said as he downed half of the sweet hoppy nectar before lowering it to the small table beside his chair. "As I was saying, our God Mortis saw to our every need and the people were happy and prosperous. At one time, I understand we numbered hundreds of millions, perhaps even a billion people: our great cities were everywhere in the ground, with some measuring more than a dozen miles in diameter, being built on levels upon levels of golden arches. We had communications that spanned the globe in an instant and even transportation that flew through the air. Then one day, there were great earthquakes. In fact, the earth never stopped shaking from that moment forward." Regin coughed again, drained his tankard then got up to get another to the frown of Thorvald. Finally, he sat back down and continued while the king wondered if he had enough ale on hand to get the full story out of the wizard.

  "So, we were at the part of the earthquakes, right?" asked Thorvald, and Regin quickly started speaking again. "Right, okay. Our priests prayed to Mortis for understanding, for back then we had no wizards. In fact, there was little or no magic as we know it now. Mortis answered. For whatever reason, our planet began to drift too close to the sun and break apart. The priests panicked and prayed again, but Mortis said there was nothing he could do but watch his people perish. He would survive, but it would be a hollow victory to watch over a belt of rocks orbiting the sun, instead of a happy, lively people. Now the priests were scared beyond imagination and enlisted the help of the people. Before that, the planet’s destruction was kept a secret. Bear in mind, this happened over many years, but now the truth was told to young and old." Regin paused again, drained his tankard, and rose to get another. Instantly, Thorvald reached behind his chair and grabbed his great battle-axe, slamming it down on the table. With a frightened squeak, Regin hurried.