Army of the Dead

by Richard S. Tuttle

  “The fact that you were out of the forest speaks highly of your courage,” Harmagan returned the compliment. “How could the Jiadin not honor such devotion to the Torak?”

  “Well spoken big brother,” smiled Scarab as he, Rejji, and Bakhai approached. “One would almost think you actually knew who the Torak was?”

  “I do not understand what the term means,” Harmagan admitted sheepishly, “but I do understand this much about men. Any man that could garner such favor from so many people is an amazing man, and one worthy to be associated with. I know of him as Emperor Marak of Khadora, and what I heard of him causes awe and inspiration. Others speak of him as the Torak, as if he were a deity. Whatever he is called, I long to serve such a man.”

  “He is not a deity,” explained King Avalar, “but he speaks to one. The Torak is an ancient name, and it stands for one who serves God, but he is not alone in this endeavor. The Star of Sakova and the Astor, who you call King Rejji, are partners. They are the Three that serve Kaltara. To serve one is to serve them all.”

  Harmagan turned and stared at Rejji as if he had never seen him before.

  “Is this true?” asked Harmagan. “Do you speak with God?”

  “It is true,” nodded the Astor.

  “Now I understand,” smiled Harmagan. “That is why Marak could ride the dragon as well as you, isn’t it?”

  “Myka was an ancient creature of Kaltara’s will,” replied Rejji, “and yes, that is why she allowed him to ride upon her.”

  “It all begins to make sense now,” the Jiadin leader nodded thoughtfully. “There is only one other question that has been bothering me.”

  “And what is that?” asked Rejji.

  “I saw the elves riding large cats across the battlefield,” Harmagan asked, “but I have not been able to find them in the forest. Where do you keep them?”

  “You do not have to fear the cats,” Ukaro smiled, his eyes shining with humor and his mane swaying in laughter. “They will not harm you.”

  “That is good to know,” Niger said nervously, “but just in case, where are they?”

  “Around,” purred Ukaro. “They are all around us.”

  Lyra suddenly stood and stared into the forest. Everyone noticed and followed her gaze to see Emperor Marak walking in from the plains. Lyra eased her way out of the crowd and went to greet him.

  “I was wondering where he had gone,” commented Harmagan. “I must talk to him.”

  Scarab’s hand shot out and rested on Harmagan’s chest.

  “Not right now,” the Khadoran spy said softly. “Let him talk with Lyra. I will introduce you to him later.”

  Harmagan looked at Scarab bewildered, but he nodded as he began to understand that there was something special between the Torak and the Star of Sakova.

  Marak halted just inside the line of trees and let Lyra come to him. She walked up to him and silently embraced him. For several long moments, neither of them spoke. Finally, Marak kissed Lyra and held her in front of him at arm’s length.

  “For two people supposedly guided by God,” Marak said softly, “we are not doing too well.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Lyra.

  “Did you try magic on the skeletons?” he asked.

  “We were told that only a strike to the neck would kill them,” frowned Lyra. “Didn’t that come from you?”

  “Not from me,” Marak shook his head. “I did not try magic on the ride from the lake because I thought you would be using it if it worked. I swung my sword like everyone else.”

  “So I failed again?” Lyra sniffed, feeling rebuked at the very moment that she wanted to just hug Marak and feel the life inside him. “I was in a hurry to save your life.”

  “I am not chastising you, Lyra,” smiled Marak. “I made a more serious error than you. All that I am trying to say is that we must not let the words of others determine our actions. You let the words of some swordsmen endanger your people. Kaltara chose us because we have the skills necessary to complete this task. We must slow down and think about how we are to use those skills before we act.”

  “You might have drowned,” protested Lyra. “Or even worse, the skeletons could have gotten you. We had to move quickly. You don’t seem to be very grateful for our actions.”

  “I am very grateful,” sighed Marak, “but you are taking my words the wrong way.”

  “I have never seen you this negative before, Marak,” frowned Lyra. “I have never seen this side of you, and I don’t like it. Just what is bothering you? Is it Myka’s death? We have all lost loved ones in these wars. It is fine to grieve, but you are well past that point. You are downright bitter.”

  “I suppose I am,” Marak said softly as his eyes dropped towards the ground.

  “You said that you also made a serious error,” Lyra continued. “Is that what is bothering you?”

  “I guess so,” nodded Marak. “So many have died because of my actions today. It is easy to point out how you rushed into battle without a plan and relied on anonymous words pertaining to tactics, but the fact is that I did exactly the same, except I did it worse.”

  “What do you mean?” questioned the Star of Sakova.

  “I should not have been on Myka today,” stated the Torak, “but I had to rush to find out what was going on. Once there, I did nothing to help the dragon. In fact, I was a burden to her. I realized that after the first battle ended, which is why I jumped off.”

  “You jumped off?” Lyra echoed in surprise.

  “I jumped off,” Marak repeated. “She was over the lake, and I thought my odds of surviving were very good. I knew she could not fight two demons with me on her back, and she would never endanger my life to survive. I did what I thought was the smartest thing to do. I jumped in the lake.”

  “I understand,” Lyra said consolingly.

  “No, you don’t,” Marak shook his head. “Jumping did not save her life, and it endangered thousands of others as they had to come and rescue me.”

  “You had no choice,” soothed Lyra as she began to appreciate the torment that Marak was putting himself through. He was blaming himself for the dragon’s death as well as the deaths of all those who perished to rescue him.

  “But I did,” retorted the Torak. “I should have stayed and fought with her.”

  “Myka told us that our magic was useless,” Lyra pointed out, “and striking out with a blade would cause the demons no harm. You could not have helped her.”

  “I think you are wrong,” countered Marak. “Kaltara has given us everything we need to succeed in this battle. I could have helped her.”

  “Now you are being unreasonable,” scowled Lyra. “You are just trying to blame yourself for her death. How could you have helped?”

  “You were told that the skeletons could only be killed by a strike to the neck,” explained Marak. “Is that correct? Was anyone able to kill one in any other manner?”

  “Not that I know of,” answered Lyra. “We did not try magic, but the instructions we received appeared to be valid. What are you getting at?”

  “I killed quite a few on the ride back from the lake,” answered Marak, “and not all of them were strikes to the neck.”

  “Are you sure?“ questioned Lyra. “How is that possible?”

  Marak removed his hands from Lyra’s shoulders and drew his sword. He held it between them, its blade upright pointing towards the sky.

  “The Sword of Torak,” declared Marak. “It is a gift from Kaltara, and as I said, he has given us everything we need to succeed.”

  “It can kill the skeletons?” gasped Lyra.

  “Easily,” nodded Marak, “and if I was to guess, I do believe the cuts that it could deliver to a demon would bleed quite well.”

  “Merciful Kaltara!” exclaimed the Star of Sakova. “Now I understand why you are berating yourself, but wouldn’t Myka have known this?”

  “I don’t think so,” Marak shook his head. “In her previous battles with demons, there was n
o Torak. The only way she could know is if Kaltara told her, and He has not even told us. He has given us what we need, but the battle is ours to figure out.”

  “Alright,” Lyra nodded. “Your point is well taken. Now that we know what we are up against, we can plan our attack, but you must let go of the past.”

  “I can’t,” frowned the Torak.

  “You must,” Lyra said adamantly. “We have both made mistakes, but there are many people depending upon us. Let’s sit down with Rejji and Fisher and see what we can come up with.”

  “Fisher?” inquired Marak. “He is here?”

  “He is called Scarab,” grinned Lyra. “The Jiadin leader is actually claiming that Scarab is his little brother. I don’t know how he does it, but he has been inside the temple.”

  “Recently?” Marak asked, his interest growing by the minute.

  “Within the past two days,” nodded Lyra. “Xavo and Lady Mystic were inside the temple when he was there.”

  “They have not gone back to Vand, have they?” asked Marak.

  “Of course not,” Lyra shook her head. “I am not sure what they are up to, but they have a hidden room in the temple. They saved Fisher when he almost got caught.”

  “Then let’s talk,” Marak said with a hint of enthusiasm. “Can we do it here? I am not ready to greet the others.”

  Lyra wove an air tunnel to Bakhai and asked to have the Astor and Fisher sent over. Bakhai came as well.

  “Tell me what I need to know, Fisher,” ordered Marak.

  “There are five hundred thousand of the skeleton creatures,” Fisher began. “There were six demons before today, and there are thirteen highly skilled mages. They are the best mages from the Island of Darkness. The leader’s name is Pakar. Also, Tzargo’s fifty thousand men have been turned into hellsouls. It is going to be quite a fight to get to Vand.”

  “So it would seem,” pondered the Torak. “Where are the hellsouls located?”

  “They are camped in and around the temple,” answered the Khadoran spy. “The skeletons were held in the city of Vandegar when I left, but now they are the outer ring of Vand’s defense. The demons normally stay on the roof of the palace, but they do go in to dine with Dobuk. I do not know where the mages are, but I would suspect inside the temple.”

  “Okay,” nodded Marak as he stooped and picked up a stick. “Now that we know what is facing us, let’s figure out a way to defeat them. Rejji, did everyone come with you?”

  “Of course,” smiled the Astor. “We had many questions regarding our slow pace, but we are ready for whatever you need.”

  “Excellent,” grinned the Torak as he began drawing in the dirt. “We have always known that we would have to fight Tzargo’s men, and the only thing that has changed in that regards is the fact that they are hellsouls now. It is the additional five hundred thousand that concerns me right now. We are once again badly outnumbered. We will lose the best part of our forces trying to get through them. That is not acceptable. Get Avalar and Ukaro over here.”

  While Bakhai ran for the elf and the Chula shaman, the Torak drew a map in the dirt with his stick. When everyone was present, Marak continued.

  “We need to drive a wedge between the skeletons and the hellsouls,” declared Marak. “I will not waste our forces fighting something that is already dead. Bakhai, that is your task. Corral the skeletons and make sure that they do not interrupt our battles with Tzargo’s men.”

  “When do you want this done?” asked Bakhai.

  “Tonight,” answered Marak. “None of our forces will make any moves to attack until we get the word from you.”

  “How can he possibly accomplish that?” asked King Avalar.

  “Rejji,” Marak continued, ignoring the question, “you will have to pull your horsemen away, but don’t move them too far. I will need them on short notice.”

  “What will you need them to do?” asked the Astor.

  “There will be a coordinated charge between the Fakarans and the Khadorans,” explained Marak. “I want the two groups to squeeze Tzargo’s men together, but I want it done in such a way as to leave one side of the temple free of fighters. That means that either the Fakarans or the Khadorans will have to halt and let the other side continue pushing. The Fakarans are more numerous and better skilled for this task so I expect to have the eastern side of the temple cleared of hellsouls. Can you have that coordinated?”

  “I will see to it personally,” assured the Astor.

  “No, Rejji,” smiled Marak. “Choose someone capable, but you will be with Lyra and me. We need to confront Vand as one.”

  “What about the elves?” asked King Avalar.

  “The elves,” answered the Torak, “must be ready to assemble on the eastern side of the temple. Your group needs to join up with Princess Alahara’s group and move as one.”

  “And the Chula?” asked Ukaro.

  “Your people will be with the elves,” answered the Torak. “I am not certain what kind of magic to expect from Vand’s mages, and that bothers me. It is a topic that you, Avalar, and I have to sit down and discuss with Lyra and Rejji. I feel strongly that your forces will be needed at the temple, but until we can determine what will be cast our way, I can’t really come up with a plan.”

  “We could do that now if you want,” offered King Avalar.

  “Later,” insisted Marak. “Just make the motions to get your people assembled. Lyra and I have something urgent to do right now. When we come back, we will sit down and discuss everything. Any more questions for now?”

  There were no questions and the group wandered off leaving Lyra and Marak standing at the edge of the forest.

  “What must we do that is urgent?” asked Lyra.

  “Can you get us two chokas and the direction that Myka was flying when she died?” he asked.

  “She was trying to flee to the east,” answered Lyra. “You are not hoping that she survived? Don’t do this to yourself, Marak.”

  “I have no illusions of her immortality,” Marak smiled meekly. “I just want to give her a proper burial. It is the least I can do after failing her.”

  “Would you prefer to go alone?” asked Lyra.

  “No,” smiled Marak. “I must confess that I will need your skills to create a hole large enough to hold her.”

  “And I thought you wanted me along because you enjoyed my company,” Lyra pouted exaggeratedly.

  “That too,” grinned the Torak.

  Lyra wove an air tunnel to request a pair of chokas. Within moments, StarWind and HawkShadow appeared with four of the large warbirds. Marak looked askance at the two Sakovans, and HawkShadow smiled broadly in return. Marak sighed humorously and shook his head. He was used to having Halman and Gunta follow him everywhere, so he understood that StarWind and HawkShadow would not let the Star of Sakova travel without them. Without a word, the four warriors mounted the chokas and headed east through the forest.

  The group worked their way through the forest and onto the plains well away from the skeletons. The steady clicking of the choka claws was the only sound that emanated from the group as the warbirds sped across the dusty ground. The plains were desolate, and the sun sank low in the western sky. Marak had thought that Myka’s body would be easy to find as it was so large, but he had not planned on searching in darkness.

  “Maybe this was a poor idea,” he remarked softly as the sun headed for the peaks of the Fortung Mountains. “We will never find her in the dark, and we must get back in time to discuss our plans with Avalar and Ukaro.”

  “How far do you think she could have flown?” asked HawkShadow.

  “They were fairly high up,” shrugged Lyra, “much higher than when Marak jumped.”

  “You jumped?” StarWind asked with surprise. “Why?”

  “I don’t want to talk about it,” Marak replied gruffly.

  “She was tightly coupled with the demon,” Lyra continued. “They weren’t really flying. It was like watching a shooting star at night. I hav
e no idea how far they could have gotten.”

  “We probably are already past where they landed,” sighed Marak. “Let’s turn around.”

  “No,” Lyra said adamantly. “This is important to you. I understand that even if you do not. Until you bury her, you will not put the episode out of your mind, and we need your mind to plan our attack.”

  “Bury her?” questioned StarWind. “How?”

  “That is my task,” replied Lyra.

  “Over there,” shouted HawkShadow as he pointed to the south. “There is something large a ways off.”

  Everyone abruptly turned to the south and followed HawkShadow. With the chokas kicking out a fast pace, the hulk of the demon came into view before the sun set. It was a grisly sight, a huge black stone-looking grotesque creature. HawkShadow looked around the horizon for Myka, but he could not find her. He continued riding southward, but Marak stopped next to the demon. The Sakovan assassin turned around and rode back.

  “The demon deserves no funeral,” frowned HawkShadow. “Let’s search for Myka while we still have a bit of light.”

  “In a minute,” Marak said tersely as he drew his sword. “There is something that I must know first.”

  Lyra watched intently as Marak swung the Sword of Torak into the demon’s flesh. The flesh parted and a black substance began to seep out of it.

  “Try your rapier,” Marak urged Lyra triumphantly. “And HawkShadow, try your sword.”

  Lyra punctured the beat’s skin with her rapier, but HawkShadow could not even break the surface of the solid skin.

  “I don’t understand,” frowned HawkShadow.

  “Our swords are gifts from Kaltara,” explained Marak. “I thought they would be able to do what other swords could not. Now I know for sure.”

  “But you didn’t know that then,” sighed Lyra. “Stop punishing yourself.”

  “It is more than that, Lyra,” Marak responded. “There are three demons left. If magic does not work on them, our weapons are the only things that will.”

  “Then this trip has already been a success,” nodded Lyra. “Let’s continue onward for a bit. We must be close.”

  They remounted their chokas and continued southeast. HawkShadow figured that must have been the direction they were traveling by the impact marks the demon left. HawkShadow got excited when he spotted something large on the horizon, but it was only the beginning of the forest that ran along the Meliban River.