13 Day War (2 page)

“The Federation almost covers the entire continent,” frowned one of the corporals. “Isn’t that the same thing?”

“Hardly,” scoffed the sergeant. “The rulers here in Zara are meek compared to the Alceans. They fought bloody wars over there for years. About four years ago, they ended the last war. Hundreds of thousands of soldiers from all over the continent were pitted against one another. Say what you will about the Alceans, but they know how to fight. Even if we do outnumber them, they will give us a decent challenge.”

“Well, we are up for any challenge,” boasted one of the corporals. “The world has never seen an army the size of the Federation. Nothing can stand in our way.”

“I would agree with that,” sighed the sergeant, “if it were not for…”

The sergeant suddenly stopped talking and looked around the room again. He returned his eyes to his mug of ale and stared into it. Several long moments passed by in silence. Eventually, the corporals could not stand the silence.

“Were not for what?” probed one of the corporals.

The sergeant looked up and stared blankly into the face of the questioning corporal. He did not speak.

“Yeah, what is it that you fear to talk about?” pushed the other corporal.

The sergeant’s eyes flicked towards the questioning corporal and then glanced around the room again.

“You will not repeat what I am about to say,” the sergeant said in a soft, but stern voice. “If the officers hear you repeat my words, they will take steps to punish you severely. There are some things about Alcea that they do not want the soldiers to know.”

“We will keep your words to ourselves,” promised one of the soldiers.

The sergeant sighed and hesitated again, but eventually he leaned towards the corporals and spoke softly.

“Beware the dwarves!

One of the corporals blinked as if not believing his ears. “What? What are you talking about? There are no dwarves. There haven’t been any for hundreds of years.”

“He’s playing with us,” the other corporal offered, his voice wavering between humor and fear.

“No one in Zara has seen dwarves for hundreds of years,” the sergeant continued, “but in Alcea it is different. There the dwarves have flourished, and they are the most ferocious of opponents. If you learn nothing else from our chance meeting, learn this. Beware the dwarves!”

“How bad can they be?” asked one of the corporals. “There are only so many things you can do with a sword, and the 21st Corps has many a good swordsman. I don’t think we need to fear dwarf or man. We will have the numbers to overpower anything they can throw at us.”

“Dwarves do not fight with swords,” corrected the sergeant. “They throw axes that will split your armored head in two, but their main weapon is the battleaxe, and most humans couldn’t even lift one. It is a fearsome weapon that can cleave a horse in two, but even worse is their armor. Dwarven armor is magically enchanted to withstand the mightiest blows. Try as you might, you just can’t harm the dwarves. They wade into your ranks, swinging those huge battleaxes around, and there is nothing you can do but run.”

“Surely, that is an exaggeration?” posed one of the corporals.

“I do not think so,” the sergeant replied with a slight shaking of his head. “The stories told in Alcean cities are that King Arik counted each of his dwarves as one hundred men. I didn’t believe those stories at first, but they were repeated in every major city in Alcea. Still skeptical, I visited one of the war burial grounds and asked to see a dwarven tomb. The groundskeeper laughed at me as if I was making a joke. When I assured him that I was serious, he explained to me that not a single dwarf had died during the Great War.”

“A hundred to one?” gasped one of the corporals. “Ten dwarves could take on a whole company? A hundred dwarves could defeat an entire army? I cannot imagine a creature so invincible.”

The sergeant remained silent, his grim face giving credence to the warning. He could see the fear rising across the table from him, and he knew that it was time to move on. He waited patiently for the question that he knew would eventually be asked.

“I hope we don’t run into any of them,” the other corporal said, his voice quaking with fear. “Which lands over there are dwarven?”

“The dwarves are usually found in Sordoa,” answered the sergeant, “just south of Trekum.”

The corporals swallowed hard and stared at each other in alarm.

“That is where we are going!” exclaimed one of the corporals.

Zackary Nolan nodded sympathetically and stood to take his leave. His message was meant explicitly for the men of the 21st Corps, and he smiled inwardly having delivered it properly. He leaned down and whispered once more before turning and leaving.

“Beware the dwarves!”

The sergeant left the tavern and headed for another to continue sowing fear of the dwarves, dwarves that he knew would one day soon be pitted against the men of the 21
^st
Corps. The sergeant had only walked two blocks before a young corporal from the 15
^th
Corps fell in alongside him. The young corporal was one of Zack’s Zaran confederates, and he was also spreading fear about the dwarves.

“How did it go?” the sergeant asked the corporal.

“It went well,” grinned Bork. “By morning the whole garrison will be talking furtively about the possibility of going up against the dwarves.”

“As long as the tales do not make their way to the ears of the officers,” cautioned Zack. “You did warn them that their officers would punish them?”

“I did,” Bork assured the Alcean spymaster.

“Excellent,” smiled the sergeant. “Be off with you to another tavern.”

“There is something else that requires your attention this night,” stated Bork without breaking away from the sergeant’s side. “Cobb thinks he has found that special someone that you have been looking for.”

“Oh?” Zack halted and turned to face the corporal. “Tell me about it.”

Bork looked around to see if anyone was within hearing before speaking softly.

“The man is a sergeant in the 16
^th
Corps under General Vladin. He makes numerous trips into the Royal Palace as part of his duties.”

“That works for the plan,” stated Zack. “What is the hook?”

“He has a gambling problem,” answered Bork, “a big gambling problem. He has been borrowing gold out of the paymaster’s funds when no one is looking. He has always managed to replace the stolen funds before the soldiers returned from the field, but things have gotten out of hand. He lost big today, and tonight he learned that the soldiers will be returning tomorrow, several days ahead of schedule. He does not have the gold to replace what he stole.”

The Alcean spymaster frowned as he stared at the ground. Bork knew Zachary well enough not to interrupt. He waited patiently for Zack to contemplate the next move.

“He must have been drunk to share that information with Cobb,” Zachary eventually said. “Stealing from the paymaster earns a very public hanging in the Federation.”

“He is very drunk,” admitted Bork, “and very scared, but you taught Cobb and me well. The man holds a slim hope that Cobb can come up with a plan to save his neck.”

“How much does he need?” asked Zack.

“Five thousand.”

Zack whistled softly. “Our thief has expensive habits. That is actually a plus. It shows that he has been living on the edge for some time without getting caught. He must be fairly good at hiding his emotions. Take me to him.”

Bork nodded and led the sergeant through the streets of the city until they came to the Journey’s Rest Inn, a modest inn for the budget conscious traveler. Zachary had rented rooms there for his military persona, while he also had rooms at the Greystone Inn for his Lord Zachary persona. Bork led the spymaster up the rear stairs and knocked softly on the door to Cobb’s room. Cobb immediately opened the door and admitted his two confederates.

Sitting on the couch was a rumpled sergeant wearing the patch of the 16
^th
Corps. He rose unsteadily as the two men entered the room, fear etched into his face. Zachary smiled at the man and crossed the room. He sat in a chair facing the couch and waved for the man to sit down.

“I understand that you have a problem,” opened Zachary. “I might be able to help you, but my help doesn’t come without conditions.”

The Spinoan sergeant swayed unsteadily and sort of fell into a sitting position on the couch, his head turning from side to side trying his best to focus on the new arrivals.

“I will not deal with a drunk,” scowled Zachary. “Get this man sobered up.”

“I have been trying,” sighed Cobb as he shoved another cup of coffee at the drunk sergeant.

Zack stood and removed his pack. As he rummaged through the pack he ordered Bork to get some cold water and an empty bucket. The former caravan warrior returned moments later with two buckets, one filled with icy cold water. Zack took the empty bucket from Bork’s hands and handed it to the drunk sergeant.

“Hold that between your knees,” Zachary scowled at the drunk, “and swallow this.”

Zachary roughly tilted the man’s head back and poured the contents of a small envelope into the man’s mouth. He grabbed the cup of coffee from the table and poured enough into the man’s mouth to make him swallow. The drunk sergeant offered no resistance. Zack released the man’s head and stepped back. He walked to the door leading to the corridor and motioned for his men to gather around him.

“I am going to another tavern for a while,” Zachary said softly to his two comrades. “When he vomits, make sure it gets into the bucket. When he is done, toss half the bucket of water into his face and use the rest to clean up. One of you come get me when he is sober enough to talk. I will not be far away.”

The Alcea spymaster left the room and headed for the closest tavern that catered to soldiers. He had no success in getting anyone to talk about Alcea and decided to try yet another tavern, but Bork found him when he stepped out onto the street. The two men returned to the Journey’s Rest Inn. Zack eyed the Spinoan sergeant and found the man glaring back at him.

“I’m sure glad you are not one of my normal drinking friends,” growled the Spinoan. “What was that stuff you forced down my throat?”

“I do not drink with thieves,” Zachary shot back, “especially thieves that talk freely when they are drunk.”

The Spinoan sergeant rose to his feet, anger and fear forcing the drunkenness from his mind.

“I thought I was talking to a friend, but obviously I was wrong.” He turned and glared threateningly at Cobb as he started making his way towards the door to leave the room.

“Sit!” Zachary commanded with an authoritative tone. “If I wanted you dead, I merely had to report your little indiscretion to the paymaster. I am sure that there would have been a reward for such a deed.”

The Spinoan sergeant hesitated and glanced at the Ertakan sergeant.

“Why didn’t you report me?”

“I can make your troubles go away,” Zachary replied with slight smile. “Sit down,” he said in a softer tone.

The Spinoan sergeant stood unmoving for a moment and then returned to the couch and sat down. Zachary reached into his purse and extracted five one-thousand-gold coins and placed them on the table. The Spinoan’s eyes widened at the sight of the small fortune sitting on the table. His eyes darted around the room as if to gauge the potential for grabbing the coins and bolting out the door. With a sigh, he nodded and returned his attention to Zachary.

“Who do I have to kill?”

“I will get to that in a moment,” replied Zack. “What is your name?”

“Batt,” answered the Spinoan, “Sergeant Batt, 16
^th
Corps.”

“I have been told that five-thousand will save you from the hangman, is that correct?”

“That’s the truth of it,” sighed Batt, “but I don’t know about killing someone to get the gold. I am a soldier, not an assassin.”

“Well,” shrugged Zachary, “that is your choice, but I am not giving you the gold just to be friendly. If you take my money, you will do as I say, or you will die a most painful death. If you have any intention of trying to cheat me, hanging would be the much wiser path for you to take.”

“Not saying that I would even think of cheating you,” probed Sergeant Batt, “but I can’t help noticing your Ertakan patches. You can’t possibly believe that you would ever find me if I chose to hide in this city. I would only have to hide until your unit is called up for the war.”

“I won’t be going to Alcea,” smiled Zachary. “I am on special detail to the Royal Palace in Farmin. As for finding you, I would have no trouble at all. I have probably spent as much time in Valdo as you have. Besides, with enough gold, I can buy anything, including the location of your hiding spot.”

“If you had enough gold,” Batt grudgingly conceded. “You can buy anything in Valdo with gold, even friends.”

Zachary reached into his purse and placed another five one-thousand-gold coins on the table. Batt’s eyes widened at the show of wealth.

“That will be your bonus for completing the task assigned to you. It is enough money to take you wherever you want to go, but you will not receive the second pile until you have been successful.”

“Ten thousand in gold?” joked Sergeant Batt. “What do you want me to do, kill the queen?”

No one laughed at the joke, and Sergeant Batt suddenly felt a knot in the pit of his stomach. He started shaking his head vigorously.

“Forget it! I may be a thief, but I am not a raving lunatic. That would be suicide. Forget it! I might as well be hanged now and get it over with.”

“You have access to the Royal Palace,” Zack said softly. “You can do it and get away easily.”

“Easily?” balked Batt. “Are you crazy? Do you have any idea what security is like around the queen?”

“Actually,” smiled Zack, “I do know. If I had easy access to the palace, I would not be here talking to you. I would just do it myself. I can tell you how to do it, when to do it, and most importantly, how to get away with it.”

Sergeant Batt’s gaze alternated between the door and the piles of gold. The wealth on the table eventually intrigued him enough that he chose to stay.