Army of the Dead

by Richard S. Tuttle

  “How could she have come this far?” asked Lyra as she looked up at the brilliant stars overhead. “We must have missed her somehow.”

  “I don’t think so,” StarWind said as she pointed at the edge of the forest. “Look at those trees. They were knocked over by something.”

  “That must have hurt,” frowned HawkShadow as he saw large sevemore trees snapped off like you would find after a brutal storm.

  “It didn’t hurt her any,” Lyra said sadly. “She was dead long before she hit those trees.”

  “Let’s find her and do what we have come to do,” urged Marak.

  HawkShadow led the way into the forest, following the trail of snapped trees. The breaks in the trees gradually got closer to the ground, and HawkShadow finally stopped next to Myka’s carcass. He dismounted the choka and cursed softly as he stepped into a river of blood.

  “Be careful where you dismount,” he said to the others. “Her blood is all over the place.”

  The dragon’s body was torn and distorted. Long raking cuts split her flesh everywhere they looked. Her wings were bent back at impossible angles, and her head was twisted to one side. A mass of broken trees rested under her body, and blood was flowing everywhere.

  Marak dismounted away from Myka’s body and walked purposely towards her head. He ignored the streams of blood and knelt next to her head. As his hand ran gently across her face, Marak offered a prayer to Kaltara.

  “How are you going to create a hole large enough?” StarWind softly asked Lyra. “Won’t that destroy the forest?”

  “Let’s move away from here and discuss it,” Lyra responded just as softly. “Marak needs some time alone with her.”

  “I guess they were close,” StarWind surmised as the three Sakovans moved off into the woods.

  “Very close,” Lyra nodded with tears in her eyes. “You would never know it from the way Myka talked to him, but she loved him very much, and he knows it. He will never forgive himself for this.”

  “Forgive himself?” questioned HawkShadow. “What did he do?”

  “His faults are in his mind,” answered Lyra. “He blames himself for being on her when the first demon attacked, and he blames himself for not being on her when the other demons attacked. He is punishing himself for her death. That is why I think it is important to give her a proper burial. If I have to destroy this forest to do that, I will.”

  “Will that really help?” asked StarWind. “Wouldn’t it have been better for him to remember her how she was instead of seeing this deformed pile of flesh and bones?”

  “I will admit,” sighed Lyra. “I did not expect her body to look this bad. I guess I should have thought about that. I thought we would just see a dead dragon on the plains, not this.”

  “This image will haunt him for the rest of his life,” HawkShadow said solemnly. “You must keep a close eye on him in the coming days. I would not be surprised to see him use his grief as a weapon and sacrifice his own life.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Lyra.

  “What punishment would he exact on someone who killed Myka this way?” asked HawkShadow.

  “He would kill them brutally,” answered Lyra.

  “And who does he blame for her death?” HawkShadow continued.

  “No,” Lyra said adamantly. “I will not let that happen. While any of us may die in the coming days, I will not permit him to throw his life away. I will freeze him if I have to, but I will not stand by and watch him sacrifice himself for a lost friend.”

  Chapter 45

  Path of Destruction

  “Lyra!” shouted Emperor Marak. “Lyra!”

  The three Sakovans looked up in alarm. HawkShadow and StarWind immediately drew their swords as they rushed back to the clearing where Myka’s body rested. The Star of Sakova ran after them, but she could see no attackers when she arrived. HawkShadow and StarWind glanced once around the clearing and then each of them darted into the woods in different directions. They both clearly thought that someone had threatened the Torak.

  “Come here, Lyra,” demanded the Torak.

  “What is it, Marak?” she asked. “Are you in trouble?”

  “Not me,” Marak shook his head. “I think I can feel her breath on my hand.”

  Lyra raced through the streams of blood and slid to a halt next to Marak. She pushed his hand away and substituted her own hand in its place. She held her hand over the dragon’s nostrils for several minutes, and finally shook her head.

  “I think that is just the heat escaping from her body,” Lyra said softly. “Surely her breathing could not be so shallow. I can hardly feel it. A creature of her size would blow me over with the volume of air she must expel.”

  “She is breathing,” Marak said adamantly as HawkShadow and StarWind came back into the clearing and looked quizzically at the couple near the dragon’s head. “Heal her.”

  “Marak,” Lyra pleaded, “if only I could. I would do anything for you, but I cannot raise the dead.”

  Marak leaped to his feet. He clawed his way onto the dragon’s snout and with both hands tried to raise Myka’s eyelid. HawkShadow, thinking that Marak had gone delirious, sheathed his sword and moved to pull Marak down. Lyra held up her hand to forestall the assassin’s move.

  “Breathe harder,” shouted Marak as he struggled with the eyelid. “Show her you are alive.”

  Suddenly, the eyelid popped open, and Marak fell backwards to the ground. A low rumble emanated from the snout of the dragon, but the pressure of her breath did not increase. Lyra stared up at the eye staring back at her.

  “Praise Kaltara!” Lyra said as she jumped to her feet. “I thought you had gone crazy.”

  “Can you heal her?” Marak asked as he picked himself up. “Can you make her whole again?”

  “I don’t know,” admitted Lyra, “but I will certainly try. Go weave an air tunnel back to the camp. Have HawkShadow give directions for LifeTender to get out here. She knows more about healing than I do.”

  “But you have the power,” frowned Marak, “and LifeTender is hours away.”

  “I have the power that Kaltara gave me,” nodded Lyra, “but I do not have the knowledge. Just do what I told you to do, and let me get to work.”

  Marak nodded and moved away to where StarWind and HawkShadow had retreated. He wove an air tunnel to the campsite and asked for LifeTender. The Sakovan healing mage’s voice came through quickly.

  “What is it, Emperor Marak?” she asked.

  “When we get done talking, I will let HawkShadow tell you how to get here,” instructed the Torak, “but I have a few requests first.”

  “Certainly,” LifeTender said pleasantly.

  “We found Myka,” Marak said quickly, “and she is not dead. Lyra has asked that you come out here to instruct her. I am concerned about the length of time that might require. Can you instruct her through an air tunnel?”

  “Not without knowing her condition,” replied LifeTender. “What can you tell me?”

  “She is in bad shape,” admitted the Torak. “The whole ground is covered with blood, and I am willing to bet that she has broken every bone in her body. Her breathing is so shallow that Lyra thought it was just heat escaping from the body.”

  “That sounds bad,” responded LifeTender. “Loss of blood could easily kill her if her other injuries do not. Maybe I should bring some other healers with me.”

  Marak frowned for a moment as he had hoped to use the air tunnel to give Lyra the instructions she needed, but it was clear that that was not going to work. LifeTender started to speak again, but the Torak interrupted her.

  “I want every mage there to leave immediately,” ordered the Torak. “That includes the Chula and the elves. In fact,” Marak added, “move the whole campsite. Those that are not mages can donate blood, but I want the mages on the fastest chokas and cheetahs. The rest will have to walk.”

  “Walking will take them the whole night,” HawkShadow said softly to the Torak. “What about the att
ack for tomorrow?”

  “LifeTender,” Marak said into the air tunnel, “I want someone to contact the other groups, especially Bakhai. All attacks and preparations are cancelled until I give orders otherwise. Let the warriors at your campsite remain where they are. Instead you are to tell the Fakarans to send men down to donate blood. They are much closer, and they can be here quicker. We will light a fire to guide them here. Do you understand all of my instructions?”

  “I believe so,” LifeTender answered hesitantly.

  Marak sighed with impatience and StarWind stepped next to him and spoke into the air tunnel.

  “Cancel all attacks,” StarWind said bluntly. “All mages are to come here immediately, and send twenty thousand Fakaran horsemen to us. If you have any questions let us know now.”

  “No questions,” LifeTender said quickly. “We are on our way.”

  “And hurry,” urged Emperor Marak. “I will not let Myka die again.”

  Marak let the air tunnel drop and returned to the dragon’s side. HawkShadow and StarWind followed. They all stood watching Lyra as she cast some type of healing spells.

  “Can a dragon’s body accept human blood?” HawkShadow asked softly.

  “I don’t know,” admitted Marak, “but she must have some blood, or she will die. There are no other dragons. She is the last.”

  “Talk elsewhere,” snapped Lyra. “I am having a hard enough time trying to find a heartbeat as it is.”

  “Come help us build that signal fire, Emperor Marak,” suggested StarWind.

  The Torak gazed upon Myka with concern etched deeply in his face, but he nodded and followed the Sakovan couple out of the clearing. They backtracked along the path of destruction until they reached the end of the forest. Upon the plains they built a huge signal fire and waited for help to arrive.

  * * *

  Emperor Vand walked out on the roof of the Vandegar Temple. He walked to the southern edge where others had gathered to view the enemy and gazed out over the plains. He saw the distant campfires of the Khadorans and the Fakarans and sneered at them.

  “They did not put up much of a fight today,” quipped the Emperor.

  “They thought it would be easy to conquer Vandegar,” nodded Tzargo. “They had not counted on your dead warriors. I think the Aritor clan might have ceased to exist today. There might be a few left in Khadora, but not one of them survived today’s ambush.”

  “I am surprised that the loss of the dragon and the Torak did not cause them all to turn around and go home,” cackled Pakar.

  “It took three of my demons to defeat them,” snarled Vand, “but it was worth it. Perhaps we should move out tonight and slay them in their sleep.”

  “The daylight works against them,” Tzargo shook his head. “At night we would not see their counterattack coming, but during the day their every move can be watched from up here. We are best to just sit tight and wait for them to come and sacrifice themselves.”

  “I like that,” grinned Emperor Vand. “Sacrifice. It sounds appropriate.”

  “What was the skirmish south of the lake today?” asked Pakar. “I see no campfires in that direction.”

  “That was the Jiadin,” answered Tzargo. “For some reason they charged in from the east and then into the forest to the south of the lake. Hours later we saw them head back to the east, but they avoided contact on the way back. Perhaps it was just to test the mettle of the skeletons.”

  “Perhaps,” mused Vand. “I have learned to take nothing for granted with these people. Maybe they were planning on rafting across the lake to get closer to the temple, but could not defend their position.”

  “Whatever their purpose,” smiled Tzargo, “they left a fair amount of dead on the plains. That gave us a victory in the east as well as the west.”

  “What do you think they will try tomorrow, Premer?” asked the Emperor.

  “I am not sure,” admitted Tzargo. “They have no real options in terms of strategy. They have to get through the skeletons before they even reach my force. We have a complete ring around my men and the temple. There is no weakness in that structure. All they can do is charge and throw bodies on the ground. By the time they reach my men, they will be but a tenth of what they started with.”

  “And they will not expect your men to rise from the dead,” cackled Vand. “Tomorrow will be a glorious day. I want the boy taken alive.”

  “The boy?” asked Tzargo.

  “The one they call the Astor,” nodded Emperor Vand. “He is not to be harmed. Make sure that everyone hears that message. That goes for you as well, Pakar.”

  “Understood,” frowned the head mage, “but why?”

  “He is the only one that I can be sure of that has the right knowledge,” smiled Vand. “He absolutely knows the location of Angragar, and he will lead us to it.”

  “He won’t want to,” stated Tzargo.

  “I know,” the Emperor grinned evilly, “but he will lead us just the same.”

  When the Emperor turned to leave the roof, a furtive figure just inside the doorway moved stealthily away. The black-cloaked figure moved swiftly through the dimly lit corridors and slipped through a doorway that hadn’t been visible moments before.

  “You are back soon,” Xavo said as he cast the spell to hide the doorway.

  “It was only a short gloating meeting on the roof,” replied Lady Mystic.

  “And what did you learn tonight?” Xavo asked.

  “That Marak and the dragon died today,” answered Vand’s daughter.

  “No,” frowned Xavo. “That does not bode well for the attack. Will the Khadorans turn around and go home?”

  “They have not done so,” shrugged Lady Mystic. “I also heard my father order that the Astor is to be taken alive. Vand wants the location of Angragar and he knows that Rejji has it.”

  “So they will be trying especially hard to kill the Star of Sakova,” frowned Xavo. “We must save my daughter if we can.”

  “If we can,” nodded Lady Mystic, “but our mission is in another direction. We cannot afford to spend much time protecting her unless you have changed your mind.”

  “No,” frowned Xavo, “my mind has not changed, but if Lyra is dead, she cannot fight Vand.”

  “And that is when we are supposed to confront Dobuk,” Lady Mystic nodded in agreement.

  “The Three were supposed to be our diversion,” stated Xavo. “Dobuk will be lending his power to Vand for that battle. It is when the Great Demon will be at his weakest.”

  “Which makes losing Marak very bitter,” sighed Lady Mystic. “I was hoping that the two of them would gang up on Vand and prolong the fight.”

  “Two?” Xavo asked in confusion. “There are three of them.”

  “What I have heard,” Lady Mystic replied, “the boy Rejji is not much of a fighter. He doesn’t even carry a sword, and he is not a mage. I really can’t see him being much help in the battle.”

  “It does sound like his only purpose was to unite the Fakarans,” nodded Xavo, “but he can also be a distraction, especially if Vand needs him alive.”

  “There is that,” shrugged Lady Mystic, “but is your daughter strong enough to take on my father alone? Personally, I find that thought ludicrous. Vand is more powerful than you can imagine.”

  “After seeing Lyra in action,” smiled Xavo, “my imagination can be rather wild. I do not know where she gets her power from, but it is unlike any that I have ever seen.”

  “We shall see,” Lady Mystic sighed as she eased into a chair. “Vand is expecting a full charge from both the Fakarans and the Khadorans tomorrow. He expects ninety percent of them to die before reaching Tzargo’s hellsouls.”

  “Marak would not sacrifice his people that way,” scoffed Xavo. “That is Premer Tzargo’s dreams you are listening to.”

  “But Marak is not around any more, is he?” retorted Lady Mystic.

  * * *

  The Fakarans were the first to arrive. Thousands of horsemen, guided b
y the signal fire, flowed into the forest and followed the path of destruction to the wounded dragon. Many of the Fakaran horsemen had elves riding double with them, and Marak’s spirits lifted when he saw that Princess Alahara was one of them.

  “Mistake,” shouted Marak.

  Princess Alahara leaped off the back of the Fakaran horse and rushed over to Emperor Marak. She took one glance at Myka and hugged the Torak, burying her head in his chest. Her tears flowed freely, and Marak remembered that Mistake also had a personal encounter with the dragon a long time ago.

  “Is there any hope?” Mistake’s muffled voice asked.

  “If Kaltara is the true god,” affirmed Marak, “then Myka will live.”

  Princess Alahara pushed away from the Torak and gazed into his eyes.

  “Are you saying that you will denounce Kaltara if Myka dies?” she asked. “Do you blame Him for her injuries?”

  “No,” Marak said quickly. “I blame no one but myself for her injuries. What I meant is that Kaltara would never give up on a winged warrior. As long as she has breath, He will watch over her. She will recover. Trust me.”

  “You do not sound as if you believe those words yourself,” the elven princess noted. “I must go to her.”

  “I will go with you,” offered Marak. “Why have the elves come with the Fakarans? Some of them are not mages.”

  “All of my elven mages are here,” answered Princess Alahara as they walked close to the dragon, “but I also brought many warriors. If Myka is to need blood, it will be elven blood that flows in her veins.”

  “Why?” asked the Torak.

  “A couple of reasons,” answered the elven princess. “First of all, the elves are an ancient race as are the dragons. If there is much of a difference, it seems reasonable that elven blood would be a closer match. Secondly, the Fakarans will need all of their strength in the coming battles. We cannot afford to have them weakened while they are hacking the enemy to death, whereas the elves will play a less strenuous part in the battle.”