Army of the Dead

by Richard S. Tuttle

  The bobcat slowly climbed down the inside of the chimney, black soot soiling its pristine fur. With its paws stretched out to embrace the opposite walls, the descent was slow and agonizing, but the results were pleasing. The bobcat entered a large sleeping chamber that contained only a single mage. It moved softly across the room and halted alongside the bed. Transforming back into human form, Ukaro swiftly used one hand to cover the victim’s mouth while the other plunged a knife into the Motangan’s heart. The Motangan’s eyes opened briefly in horror, but his death was quick.

  Ukaro turned and saw his three fellow shamans in human form. He nodded to them and pointed to the door. The shaman closest to the door eased it open and peeked out. His body disappeared into the hallway and the other shamans followed. In the hallway, the shamans split up, each heading for a different room. They slowly and methodically cleared the upper floor of Motangan mages and were starting to move down to the next level when a horn blared outside the building. The horn was quickly joined by others, and Ukaro knew that the time for stealth was over.

  Shouts rang out from below the shamans. Ukaro signaled with his hands, and the Chula retreated up the steps to the uppermost level of the inn. Black cloaks were clearly visible down the stairwell as the Motangan mages reacted to the alarm.

  The mages raced to the ground level and threw open the front door. Twirling blades of light immediately sliced through their bodies and panic erupted inside the inn. Some mages tried the windows and the back door, only to meet with a similar fate as blades of light sliced through their bodies.

  “Stay away from the windows,” shouted a Motangan mage. “We are surrounded, but I have a plan. Gather around me.”

  Ukaro nodded to his fellow shamans and crept down the stairs. They reached the second level and continued downward. Half way down the last flight of steps, Ukaro halted as he saw a large mass of black cloaks milling around the man who must have taken command. Ukaro had no need to signal to his fellow Chula. He stepped down one more step and stooped to give the others a clearer view.

  As Ukaro unleashed his blades of light, several others whisked past his shoulders. The magical blades sliced into the clump of black cloaks and body parts flew through the air. A fine red mist hung in the air for several seconds before drifting to the bloody floor. Ukaro immediately rose and raced down the stairs. He avoided the area of carnage and proceeded to check the other rooms of the first floor for any stray mages. Minutes later, the other three shamans joined him.

  “The second floor is cleared,” reported one of the Chula.

  “As is this one,” nodded Ukaro. “Our business is done here. We need to get out on the streets to help our warriors. Give the signal that we are coming out.”

  For the next three hours, the battle raged in Alamar. Some of the Motangans dashed into the street to battle with the Chula warriors, while others sought sanctuary in the partially destroyed buildings. Light blades flashed all over the city, and cats were seen dashing into buildings that had become Motangan refuges. By morning an eerie silence pervaded the old Omungan city. Groups of Chula searched the city, building by building. There were no Motangans left alive.

  * * *

  “Ophia?” the voice asked softly through the air tunnel.

  “She is sleeping,” came the pleasant reply from the roof of the Imperial Palace in Khadoratung. “This is Kaylee. What can I do for the Star of Sakova?”

  “Tayo, Kaylee,” smiled Lyra. “I was hoping to find Marak still awake.”

  “He is also sleeping,” replied Kaylee. “Is it important?”

  “No,” sighed Lyra. “I just returned to StarCity and could not sleep. I was hoping that he was awake.”

  Kaylee frowned at the unusual request, but something tugged at her heartstrings. “Wait for a moment, “ she said softly. “I will wake him.”

  “That is not necessary,” Lyra replied halfheartedly, but she felt the air tunnel drop on the other end.

  A few minutes later, she felt the air tunnel being picked up again.

  “Lyra?” asked Marak. “What is wrong?”

  “Marak,” replied Lyra, her voice smiling through the air tunnel. “I am sorry to have you awakened. There is nothing wrong that cannot wait until morning.”

  “Then let us consider it morning,” Marak replied pleasantly. “I would love to see you. How about meeting me half way?”

  “I would like that,” Lyra said, her spirits already rising.

  “Then let it be so,” stated Marak. “I will see you shortly.”

  The Torak dropped the air tunnel and thanked Kaylee for waking him. He left the roof and stopped off at his quarters to dress in his Torak clan uniform. He took his secret exit from the palace and stole across the city to the temple. In minutes he was in the library of the temple at Changragar. Barely a minute later, the bookshelf moved, and Lyra entered the room. She wore a plain black tunic and black pants. Marak frowned when he saw her garb.

  “How is the war going in the Sakova?” he asked apprehensively.

  “Not well,” admitted Lyra. “We are losing many good people. Oh, we are getting the better of them odds wise, but I do not think such a trade is worth it. Too many friends are dying, and I almost lost HawkShadow and StarWind yesterday.”

  “That would be a severe blow,” nodded Marak as he embraced Lyra to comfort her. “Why are you up so late? Or have you woken early?”

  “Late,” answered Lyra. “My people demanded that I remove myself from the battlefield. They are afraid that I will be hurt. If I did not care for them so much, I would be quite angry. It reminds me of my father and how he refused to let me train with the boys.”

  “And you always found a way around his edicts,” laughed Marak, “if I remember the stories correctly.”

  “You remember well enough,” Lyra laughed before turning serious again. “I don’t like this feeling of helplessness.”

  “You are far from helpless,” soothed the Torak. “I heard from Ukaro this evening. He should be attacking Alamar as we speak. With Kaltara’s help, Alamar will be back in friendly hands by morning.”

  “Then we can begin to starve the Motangans,” brightened Lyra. “That is good news. I was getting concerned because StarWind found out that Duran has been reopened by the Motangans.”

  “Then we must shut it down again,” shrugged Marak as he broke the embrace and began pacing.

  “We can’t this time,” frowned Lyra. “There are thousands of Motangans defending it, and they have created defensive works to resist any attempts to reclaim the city.”

  “We have no choice,” Marak said adamantly as he stopped pacing and stared at the Star of Sakova. “We cannot allow the Motangans to use Duran as a supply port. It must be retaken or destroyed.”

  “Destroyed?” frowned Lyra. “What are you thinking?”

  “I am thinking that Kaltara works in mysterious ways,” grinned Marak. “Perhaps you were chased from the battlefield for a purpose. Come with me. We have some work to do.”

  The Star of Sakova frowned with curiosity, but she followed Marak out of the temple. The Chula guards were surprised by their presence, but they were not disturbed. Marak led Lyra into the forest and along a narrow trail. Fifteen minutes later they emerged from the forest in a large clearing near a clear alpine lake. Curled up on the shore of the lake was a huge dragon. Myka raised her head lazily and watched the humans approach.

  “I am running out of places to hide from you,” snorted the dragon. “At least you have brought your warrior woman with you this time. I guess I will have to be nice.”

  “That should tax your small mind,” chuckled the Torak. “Get your lazy body off the ground. We have adventure to pursue.”

  “Adventure?” Myka perked up. “You could have at least giving me some notice.”

  “You would probably find a better solution to the problem and that would hurt my pride,” grinned the Torak. “Be glad that Lyra and I chose to include you in this adventure.”

  “Becau
se you need to fly somewhere no doubt,” taunted the dragon. “What is this adventure?”

  “I will explain it while we fly somewhere,” replied Marak.

  Chapter 15

  Helping Hand

  The dragon glided through the dawn sky, banking into a lazy spiral as she circled over the coastal city of Duran. Not many Motangans were awake and moving around, but thousands of tents dotted the city.

  “There are more than a thousand Motangan soldiers here,” frowned Lyra, her arms wrapped lovingly around Marak as they sat on the back of the dragon.

  “Easily,” agreed the Torak. “Vand is taking no chances of another attack on his supplies. If we even had the ships to attack, we would lose tens of thousands of men trying to retake the city. He is smart enough to understand that his armies must eat to fight.”

  “There is no way that the three of us are going to attack Duran,” retorted Lyra. “That would not be adventure; it would be suicide.”

  “Land on the Wall, Myka,” instructed the Torak.

  The dragon broke out of the spiral and glided towards the Wall of Mermidion, a mammoth cliff that ran for hundreds of leagues and isolated the city of Duran from the rest of the Sakova. When Myka landed on the top of the Wall of Mermidion, Marak and Lyra slid off. The sun was just beginning to peek above the horizon and hundreds of Motangan soldiers began emerging from their tents.

  “What exactly do you have in mind?” the Star of Sakova asked the Torak.

  “If I remember your stories about the Scroll of Kaltara,” smiled Marak, “it states that the Wall of Mermidion was formed from the ground taken from the Wound of Kaltara.”

  “You remember well,” nodded Lyra. “It was a demonstration of the power of Kaltara, and of His anger at the Sakovans for disobeying Him.”

  “So the Wall of Mermidion was created by the hand of Kaltara?” asked Marak.

  “Of course,” Lyra frowned as she wondered what Marak was alluding to.

  “Then the Wall of Mermidion can once again be moved by the hand of Kaltara,” grinned Marak.

  “You brought us here to pray?” puzzled Lyra. “We could have used the prayer chamber at Changragar. It is a holy place.”

  “Prayer works wonders,” smiled Marak, “but that is not what I had in mind. You, Lyra, are the hand of Kaltara.”

  Lyra’s eyes opened wide as she stared at the Torak. Her mouth opened to speak, but nothing came out.

  “You are wiser than I gave you credit for, Torak,” chuckled the dragon. “This will indeed be an adventurous day.”

  “You can’t be serious?” Lyra finally uttered. “Do you have any idea of the magnitude of power that you are requesting from me?”

  “Do you have any appreciation for the powers bestowed upon you by Kaltara?” countered Marak with a grin.

  “I value my powers greatly,” frowned Lyra, “but I don’t think such a thing is possible. I doubt that hundreds of mages could even accomplish it.”

  “Kaltara has blessed you with more than just your magical powers,” declared the Torak. “He has also given you wisdom. Use your mind, Lyra. Look at the Wall upon which we stand and tell me what you see.”

  “I see rock,” frowned Lyra, “massive amounts of rock. The cliffs are huge and towering.”

  “Which consist of vertical strata,” hinted the Torak.

  “As it should,” nodded Lyra. “It once sat at the bottom of the Wound of Kaltara.”

  “The many layers of sediment compressed into rock layers over the ages have been lifted out of the Wound of Kaltara and stood upon their edges,” grinned the Torak. “Instead of layer upon layer of horizontal rock, we now have huge vertical slabs.

  “And all I would have to do is separate a few layers of the strata,” the Star of Sakova nodded. “Gravity would do the rest. You are brilliant, Marak. Whole sections of the Wall of Mermidion could be sent tumbling down on Duran.”

  “Could and should,” smiled Marak. “Let us bury forever the city that the Motangans have seized to further our destruction.”

  “I will need your help,” Lyra said distractedly as she walked along one of the faults, staring at the small cracks in the surface that separated the various colored layers. “If we have any chance of making this happen, I will have to separate the layers along one of the faults slowly, or just the top section will crumble off.”

  “Just tell me what you want me to do,” smiled Marak. “I am in your service.”

  Lyra grinned and looked up at the Torak. “And I intend to keep you there,” she chuckled. “We will have to do this from above the Wall,” she continued seriously. “I think we can peel off the three outermost layers in one shot, but I will need to do it slowly. The deeper I go, the harder I will need to concentrate. Myka can guide me by flying along the section of the Wall that resides above Duran, and turning around when we reach the limits of the city. I will need you, Marak, to hold onto me tightly. I am not sure how I will feel when my power is drained. You will also have to decide when I have done enough.”

  “Decide?” frowned Marak. “What do you mean?”

  “I am only going to separate the layers a tiny amount,” explained Lyra, “otherwise the outer layer will just crumble a bit at a time. That would not suffice to destroy the entire city. In fact, it would probably alert the mages below of what we are up to. I have no idea what their powers are, and I do not want to find out today. When you feel that I have gone deep enough to cause the entire layer to fall at once, you need to direct force bolts into the crevice. Direct them as deep into the crevice as you can, and make them increasingly powerful as you go deeper.”

  “So the first force bolts will only widen the crevice, but the more powerful ones will start the destruction down deeper?” asked Marak.

  “Exactly,” nodded Lyra. “If the first ones are too powerful, you will blow off small chunks of the wall. That will not do what we want as the debris will merely fall to the bottom of the Wall. We need the whole wall to come down at once if we wish the destruction to reach the harbor.”

  “I understand,” nodded Marak as he helped Lyra onto Myka’s back.

  Marak scrambled up the dragon’s back and sat behind Lyra. He wrapped his arms tightly around her as Myka leaped into the air. The dragon climbed in altitude as she headed for a spot of the Wall where the limits of Duran ended. Myka banked sharply and turned around to make the first run over the selected section of the Wall of Mermidion. Marak watched with interest as Lyra concentrated and began casting her spell. Small stones popped into the air, and a loud cracking sound drifted up to them as a small fissure appeared in the Wall.

  “Slower, Myka,” Lyra demanded.

  The dragon’s wings began to beat faster, but her forward motion slowed.

  “That is as slow as I can go without tossing you two about,” declared Myka. “We are practically at a walk.”

  Lyra did not respond as she continued to concentrate on the fissure. The crack that Lyra created was barely large enough for one to stick the tips of their fingers in. When Myka reached the northernmost limit, she banked sharply and reversed course. Lyra concentrated on enlarging the fissure, both in width and depth.

  “This is going better than I would have thought possible,” Lyra said softly. “The layers are most willing to be separated.”

  “They have remained in their unnatural position for a long time,” smiled Marak as he watched the fissure widen.

  After the second pass, the fissure was large enough to put your arm into. Marak could not see how deep it went. As Myka started the third pass, small chunks of stone tumbled from the Wall to the city below. Although the land directly below the Wall was mostly farmland and outside the limits of the city proper, shouts arose from the Motangans before the third pass was complete.

  “We have been noticed,” announced Myka. “Soon the whole city will be gazing up at us.”

  “I am almost done,” replied Lyra. “At the end of this pass, take us higher and more inland. That will keep the Motangan mage
s from being able to target us.”

  Marak stared down at the crevice, which was now large enough for a person to slip into. He looked down at the city of Duran and saw thousands of people running around and pointing upward. Fireballs flew upwards, but they could not reach the dragon. Unexpectedly, lightning flashed out of the clear sky. The lightning bolt missed the trio, but it was close enough to make Marak’s skin tingle.

  “Take us up and inland,” shouted Lyra as they reached the end of the third run.

  Myka instantly obeyed as she banked sharply and climbed powerfully. More lightning flashes lit the morning sky, but they were not close enough to cause any harm.

  “What now?” asked Marak as the dragon soared over the Sakova so far inland that Duran was no longer visible.

  “We have to make one more run,” declared the Star of Sakova. “There will be a short change of plans, though. Marak, I want you to concentrate on the less powerful force bolts. Just widen the fissure for me. I will sit backwards and follow your force bolts with my own. Mine will be more powerful and deeper. Myka, I am going to want you to fly much faster this trip. Gauge your speed on how quickly Marak can throw his force bolts. He must toss one every hundred paces, but the faster we do this the better. Once, my force bolts hit the bottom of the crevice, the wall will start to fall. It is best if it all goes down together.”

  “How quickly can you perform your magic, Torak?” quipped the dragon.

  “How quickly can you fly, dragon?” retorted the Torak. “I am skilled with both hands. If I only need one every hundred paces, a fast gallop would not be too fast.”

  “Fortunately,” snorted the dragon as it landed in a clearing in the Sakova, “I am not a horse. Arrange your bodies as you want them. Let me know when to start this final run.”

  Marak unwrapped his arms, and Lyra slid past him. She turned around and sat facing the dragon’s tail.

  “You will feel me falling,” frowned Lyra, “won’t you?”

  “You have never had a safer seat,” chuckled the dragon. “Are you ready?”