Army of the Dead (48 page)

“My gut feeling is overriding your assurances that this is only a delaying tactic,” snapped Premer Shamal. “Get those scouts out now.”

The elves had been following the Motangan column in Khadora. They had kept off the road and had moved silently through the forest. When the sky was illuminated by the Torak’s spell, King Avalar used an air tunnel to instruct his warriors. The elves moved quickly northward, their first targets being the supply wagons at the end of the column. The drivers and escorts were killed and the driverless wagons were used to block the roadway.

Shouts arose from the column ahead of the wagons as the Motangans became aware of the new threat from behind. Some of the Motangans tried to press forward, but the whole column was barely moving. There was little room for the soldiers to move forward. Other Motangans turned to attack the elves. Two groups of elves moved forward. One group led by King Avalar moved through the forests along the east side of the roadway while the other group was led by Princess Alastasia and took the west side of the road. Together they moved forward as one army.

The Motangans were no match for the elven archers. Most of them died before they ever saw an elf. Within minutes the Motangans were panicking. They began to shout and push forward even though there was no room for them on the road. They fled into the forest on both sides of the road and ran towards the north to escape their unseen enemy. As King Avalar and his daughter pushed onward, the rear of the Motangan column fled in full rout. The elves followed as quickly as they could nock arrows.

* * *

The Chula were spread out in a long line flanking the right-hand side of the center of the Motangan column. When the Torak’s signal was seen, they moved silently forward. No orders were necessary as each Chula tribe was led by the leader of the tribe, and each tribe acted independently. Spears flew into the unsuspecting Motangans, and light blades decimated the foreigners. The Motangans could neither advance nor retreat along the clogged roadway. Many of them stood to fight, but more fled into the forest west of the roadway. Their reprieve from battle was short-lived, and their retreat turned deadly. The armies of the frontier clans occupied the left-hand flank of the Motangans, and the Khadorans moved forward to engage the center of the column. Within an hour of fierce fighting, the center of the Motangan column ceased to exist.

The Chula split into two groups. One group advanced along the flank towards the berm while the other advanced towards the elves. The frontier clans did likewise, and soon the Motangan column was being squeezed into two distinct columns, each caught between two armies. The Torak watched the battle from the sky as Myka circled over Premer Shamal. He maintained an air tunnel to listen in on the premer’s conversations.

“We are being attacked from the rear,” reported an officer. Our supplies are gone, and the elves are advancing at a furious pace.”

“Elves?” balked Premer Shamal. “That is preposterous. Who told you this?”

“A mage told me,” replied the officer. “He said he received a message from the rear. I thought you should know.”

“There are no elves in Khadora,” interjected General Chen. “The mage must have misunderstood the message.”

A black cloak suddenly appeared alongside the premer. “It is true,” he insisted. “I also received the message. I do not know where the elves came from, but he would not have been specific if he was not sure.”

“Contact him again,” ordered Shamal. “I want to be positive that elves are attacking us.”

“He no longer answers the call,” frowned the mage. “In fact, I cannot contact anyone back there.”

“Then go back there yourself,” snapped he premer. “I want information.”

“There is more,” frowned the mage. “Our column is being attacked in the center. We are under attack from both flanks.”

“By elves again?” scowled the premer.

“No,” the mage shook his head. “There are no reports of elves on our flanks, but there are many mages among the enemy. Our losses are high.”

“Your gut feeling was correct,” interjected General Chen. “What are your orders, Shamal?”

Marak looked back towards the berm and saw the Khadoran cavalry surging over the earthworks. He nodded in satisfaction and dropped the air tunnel. The time for listening was over, for he did not intend to give Premer Shamal the chance to reorganize his forces. The Torak shouted terse instructions to Myka, and the dragon suddenly leaned into a steep dive.

As the ground came rushing up towards Marak, he focused on the black-cloak talking to Premer Shamal. The Torak’s arm pointed downward, and a pulse of power soared from his fist. Even before the magical projectile struck, Marak followed with a series of light blades. The force bolt slammed into the Motangan mage, splitting his body in two. Premer Shamal and the officers surrounding him looked upward a second before the light blades hit. The magical blades ripped into the clump of officers with deadly results, officers and horses reduced to mere fragments that flew in every direction.

Myka suddenly flared her wings and soared northward just over the heads of the column of Motangan soldiers. Flames shot from her mouth and scorched the mass of red uniforms. Marak scanned the roadway ahead and searched for black-cloaks. Whenever he saw one, he unleashed a light blade at the mage. Within minutes the dragon rose over the heads of the charging Khadoran cavalry. She banked sharply and prepared for another pass over the roadway.

On her first pass, the Motangans were taken completely by surprise. The soldiers never saw the dragon coming, but those who survived her flames saw the dragon after she passed over them. The second pass was more dangerous. Flying into the faces of the Motangan soldiers, Myka had to deal with hastily aimed arrows streaking towards her. The arrows bounced off the armor-plated dragon, but a lone mage managed to strike with a fireball shortly before Marak struck the black-cloak with a light blade.

Myka banked sharply to her right and skimmed over the trees. Marak jammed a knife into the dragon’s scales and hung on as Myka dove for the Khadora River. The dragon slid into the river, splashing water high into the air. She skimmed along the surface of the water for a short distance and then climbed into the air again.

“Are you alright?” the Torak asked with concern.

“I am now,” replied Myka. “That fireball hit me just right. It managed to slip under the scales. Did you get him?”

“He is dead,” answered the Torak.

“Good,” snorted Myka. “Let’s get the rest of them. Pay close attention to the mages.”

Myka swept over the trees between the river and the roadway, banking sharply to soar over the road once again. Motangan bodies littered the road, and the winged warrior dropped lower. She impaled two soldiers with her claws as her mouth belched fire. The Torak tossed light blades before the dragon’s path as Myka tossed the captured bodies to the ground. Motangan arrows flew out of the woods towards Marak and the dragon, but Myka sped by too quickly to be hit by anyone on the sidelines. After several minutes of flying over the road, they came to a section of the roadway where nothing lived. Motangan bodies still covered the roadway, but there were no survivors to aim at.

“This must be the center of the column,” shouted the Torak. “The flanking attacks have taken their toll.”

“Then it is time to aid the elves,” snorted the dragon. “You have a minute to rest yourself.”

The trees raced past the tips of Myka’s wings as she sped swiftly along the desolate road, her eyes focused far ahead at the figures still alive. Long tongues of flame shot from her mouth and her claws stretched forward as the Motangans came into view. Some of the Motangans saw the winged warrior coming. A few fled into the trees despite the presence of Chula and frontier Khadorans. Others stood their ground and raised bows to attack the dragon. Marak’s light blades preceded the dragon, shredding bodies and clouding the air with a red mist, and soon the Motangans were in a full-panic retreat.

The panic spread in a wave as the dragon flew into the fleeing soldiers, again impaling some and tossing their bodies aside. A haze of smoke began to appear over the roadway behind the winged warrior as the dragon’s flames ignited bodies and body parts. Within minutes Myka saw the abandoned wagons of the supply train and soared upwards. She was about to bank for another run when the Torak spoke.

“Take us high,” ordered the emperor. “I am feeling drained, and I wish to see the state of the battlefield.”

Myka responded without comment and flew upward, far beyond the reach of arrow or magical projectile. From his high vantage point, the Torak gazed down at the roadway of death. The road was covered in red. Blood flowed freely among the uniforms of the dead Motangans, but few soldiers moved along the road. It was a desolate graveyard for the invaders.

“Where are the surviving Motangans?” Marak asked as they flew over the road. “I cannot see them.”

“There are still battles raging in the trees,” replied Myka, “of course I would not expect a human’s eyes to see what I can see. The rats have cleared off the road for now. It is a pity. I was looking forward to another run along the road.”

“Can you see any problem areas?” asked the Torak.

Myka did not answer promptly. She flew the entire length of the road and turned over the berm for another run. When she reached the southern end of the road, she turned again and spoke.

“The battle is won,” the dragon declared. “The Motangans are seeking to flee rather than fight.”

“And there is nowhere for them to run,” nodded Emperor Marak. “Praise Kaltara for this victory.”

“And what comes next?” asked the winged warrior.

“Fakara and Vand,” replied Marak. “I wonder how things are going there?”

* * *

“There is a wide pass through the mountains,” Bakhai said to Premer Cardijja. “We will pass through it tomorrow.”

“And what is on the other side?” asked the premer.

“A wide plain,” answered Bakhai. “On the other side of the plain is a jungle.”

“And that is where Angragar is located?” asked General Luggar.

“I do not know,” frowned Bakhai. “I do not even know if Angragar really exists, but that is where I was traveling when the evil spirit began chasing me. She must be protecting something.”

“I agree,” smiled Premer Cardijja. “There was a fork in the road not long ago. Where does the northern fork lead to?”

“To the Valley of Bones,” Bakhai answered without hesitation. “It is a large valley protected by four great peaks. It is said that ancient armies used it as a fortress.”

“That might be where the free tribes are hiding,” General Luggar commented with excitement. “Perhaps we should go there instead.”

“The free tribes are not there,” Bakhai replied quickly.

“How do you know?” the general frowned with skepticism.

“Everyone knows,” shrugged Bakhai. “The free tribes are far to the south. Their homes are along the Taggot River.”

“Show me on the map,” ordered Premer Cardijja.

Bakhai walked over to the map and stared at it for a moment. He appeared to be confused by the strange symbols, but he finally pointed at the large peninsula that occupied southeast Fakara.

“The Taggot River runs down the center,” Bakhai said softly. “It starts in the center of the Giaming Mountains and empties into the sea. That is where the free tribes live.”

The premer smiled broadly and nodded in appreciation of the knowledge. He cast a smug glance at General Luggar.

“So which way do we go?” asked the general. “Do we search this jungle for Angragar? Or do we alter course and march on the free tribes?”

“The distance to the free tribes is great,” mused the premer. “I think our priority should be to find Angragar. The Fakarans will remain trapped on the peninsula. We can choose our time to turn southward and trap them between our armies and the sea. I have suddenly begun to feel very optimistic about this campaign.”

General Luggar glanced at Bakhai and frowned. Premer Cardijja noticed the glance and shook his head.

“Go outside and play, Bakhai,” the premer said in a friendly manner. “I will call for you if we need to talk more.”

Bakhai smiled and nodded. He moved eagerly to the tent flap and let himself out. Premer Cardijja shook his head once more and turned his gaze upon General Luggar.

“You still do not trust the lad?” he asked.

“I do not trust any Fakaran,” shrugged the general. “It is one thing to ask questions of the captive, but quite another to reveal your thoughts to him.”

“His information has been accurate in every regard,” the premer defended Bakhai. “We could never have progressed so far without his help. We would still be blindly searching for a pass through the mountains.”

“The roads were easy enough to spot,” retorted the general. “I am sure that our scouts would have found them.”

“We were too far north to find this pass,” countered the premer. “I will grant you that we might have found the Valley of Bones, but we would probably have missed the jungle that lies ahead. I wonder if the jungle is large enough to conceal the lost city?”

“It is probably similar to the jungles on Motanga,” offered General Luggar. “It is most likely a small strip along the coast.”

“Is it?” questioned the premer. “Bakhai says that we will reach the jungle in two days, yet we cannot be close to the coast. I am imagining a much larger jungle than on the Island of Darkness.”

“Perhaps,” shrugged General Luggar. “What did you make of his description of the Valley of Bones?”

“The name is strange,” mused the premer, “but it is worth checking out. Should the free tribes move northward, we could use it as a place to defend. I do not care to be caught on the plain with horsemen charging my position. I saw what the Fakaran horsemen are capable of in such a situation. It cost me fifty thousand men.”

“Yet we are heading for a plain tomorrow,” cautioned the general.

“It must be crossed to get to the jungle,” retorted the premer. “We will only spend two days at most upon it. Once we gain the safety of the jungle, the Fakaran horsemen will lose their advantage.”