Army of the Dead (51 page)

“It shall be as you command,” bowed the black-cloak. “Should we send men to Khadora as well?”

“No,” the emperor responded tersely. “I will deal with Shamal in my own way. Go and spread the word.”

With a dismissive wave, the emperor sent his mages from the throne room. Premer Tzargo bowed and backed out of the room, leaving Emperor Vand alone. Vand sat silently for a few moments and then rose from his throne. He appeared to be walking casually out of the throne room, but his mind was filled with rage. He cursed Xavo and his daughter for their interference. He mentally berated Shamal for failure to keep him informed. He spat on the memory of Doralin who had failed him in the Sakova.

When the emperor reached the roof of the temple, he was in a particularly foul mood, which was quite appropriate for the company he was about to commune with. Located on the roof were six hideous demons, visages of harshly chiseled black stones. Their metallic sounding claws tapped the roof of the temple as they felt the emperor approaching. They turned as one to gaze at the doorway leading into the temple from the roof. Vand walked through the doorway, his face a mask of hatred. The demons’ angular lips parted in what some would mistake for a smile.

Vand ignored the demons at first, which he knew incensed them. He walked to the edge of the roof and gazed out over the plain stretching westward. The Fortung Mountains were visible far in the distance, and beyond them was Khadora. The six demons moved slowly as if with no direction, but they converged on the emperor. They surrounded him in a semicircle and waited to hear his words.

“Premer Shamal has proven to be a disappointment,” the emperor said so softly that it sounded like he was whispering to someone, but there was no one there except the demons. “He needs to be told the errors of his ways. Do not harm him, but bring him to me.”

The emperor turned and touched one of the demons. He looked the creature in the eyes and said, “Kill anyone who gets in your way, but bring me Shamal. Do it now.”

The chosen demon grinned at the others as they backed away. The creature stepped to the very edge of the roof and leaned forward, allowing his body to fall. Vand watched with curiosity as the demon plummeted towards the ground. Suddenly, long black wings unfolded and swung out from the demon’s body, and the fall turned into a glide. With a single flap of those powerful wings, the demon rose upward and soared towards the west. Vand stood silently and watched the black specter sail through the sky until the demon was merely a speck lost in the haze of the distant mountains.

Emperor Marak rode a horse south along the roadway of death. His expression was a mixture of victory tinged with a deep sadness as he viewed the carnage left from the battle. He passed several work crews and their wagons and paused momentarily to watch the men loading the wagons with bodies and body parts. He shook his head with disgust at the wasted human lives and continued southward. A few minutes later he came to the area of the road where he had attacked Premer Shamal and his officers. Again he paused as his eyes scanned the grounds. Blood soaked the road and little was recognizable, but he saw the head of the Motangan premer staring blankly up at the sky. The man’s mouth was open wide with what must have been his dying shout. Marak closed his eyes and offered up a prayer to Kaltara. He gave thanks for the victory over the Motangans, but he also prayed for an end to the continuing slaughter brought upon the world by Emperor Vand.

“I told you he would be alive,” Fisher shouted joyfully.

Marak’s eyes flew open, and he saw the Khadoran spy flanked by Gunta and Halman. The three faces grinned back at him as the Khadorans raced forward to stand before the Torak.

“You did it,” smiled Gunta. “You defeated the Motangans.”

“Not that we ever had any doubts,” Halman added quickly.

“We have had a great victory,” Marak replied softly, “but the war is not over. Fighting still awaits us in Fakara.”

“The Khadorans are going into Fakara?” asked Gunta.

“I cannot ask the Khadorans to go to war in Fakara,” declared the Torak. “They have already suffered much, and they have a country to rebuild, but we are going.”

“You have but to ask them,” frowned Fisher. “They will deny you nothing.”

“Their loyalty warms my heart,” Marak smiled tautly, “but it is their faith in Kaltara that I seek, not their desire to make me a deity. I will leave their actions up to their own hearts.”

“As you should,” King Avalar smiled as he walked towards the group with his daughter by his side. “You may urge a people to war, but it is worthless unless victory is in their own hearts.”

“Which is why the elves will be going to Fakara with you,” grinned Princess Alastasia.

“That pleases me greatly,” smiled the Torak. “The elves are always welcome wherever I may be. From the air I witnessed the results to those who would stand before the elves in battle. You make a formidable foe.”

“From what I have seen of this roadway of death on my way here,” replied King Avalar, “the Motangans had many formidable foes in this battle. The Chula are already forming ranks to head to Fakara, as are my people. You have no need to even ask them. We who travel by foot need the head start. The Chula and the elves will meet you on the other side of the Fortung Mountains.”

“You have spoken to the Chula?” Marak asked with surprise.

“Tmundo and Ukaro were searching for survivors as we passed by,” nodded the king of the elves. “I introduced myself. We agreed to travel to Fakara together.”

“Then you both will travel in good company,” grinned the Torak. “I will return to the berm and inform the Lords’ Council of my destination. Perhaps some of them will choose to join me.”

Emperor Marak nodded to the elves and turned his horse around. King Avalar and Princess Alastasia watched as the Torak rode northward, his three shadows on foot hurrying to keep up.

“He impresses me each time we meet,” King Avalar said softly as he turned to head back to his people.

“He has that effect on everyone,” smiled the princess. “I will not be surprised to find out that the entire Khadoran nation has followed him over the Fortung Mountains.”

“I agree,” smiled Avalar, “but they still have much work to do here burying the dead. Let us get our people moving to the next battlefield.”

The elves walked southward to join their people. They were unaware that their words had been overheard. Moments later a tall, stony creature slid out of the forest. Deep black eyes scanned the road in each direction before the demon bent over and picked up the head of Premer Shamal. The demon hissed and spat on the road, smoke rising from the acidic saliva as it ate into the surface of the road. The creature slid back into the trees and disappeared.

* * *

Smoke billowed upward over the foothills of the Fakaran mountains, creating a stain in the flawless blue sky. Xavo looked up at the smoke and frowned.

“Our position is too clearly marked,” he declared. “It is time to move on before the tribes come to investigate.”

“And where will we find the next caravan?” asked Lady Mystic as she gazed at the charred remains of twelve wagons.

Xavo blinked and stared at the corpses littering the road around the wagons. “There will be no more caravans,” he finally replied. “I took count of the wagons when we were in Meliban. The Motangans have no more to send.”

“They could build more wagons,” offered Lady Mystic.

“They could,” agreed Xavo, “but we are not going to sit idle and wait for them to do so. Besides, I do not think they would build more wagons without discovering what happened to the old ones first.”

“Then we are to ambush their soldiers coming to investigate the reason for the wagons not returning?” questioned Vand’s daughter.

“No,” Xavo sighed heavily. “There is no point in putting ourselves between the tribes and the Motangans. The time has come for us to go to Vandegar.”

“Surely my father will have learned of our treason by now,” balked Lady Mystic. “Going to Vandegar is not the brightest suggestion you have ever made. We will never get close to Vand.”

“Perhaps not,” shrugged Xavo, “but it is our destiny, or at least mine.”

“Your destiny is mine,” Lady Mystic smiled thinly. “If Vandegar is where you must go, I will go with you, but I want you to be aware of what awaits us there.”

“The same thing that has awaited us wherever we went,” replied Xavo. “We have cheated death quite a few times already. Why let potential consequences disturb us now?”

“Just because one successfully cheats death,” frowned Lady Mystic, “is not an excuse to keep tempting it. We could just forget this war and escape to someplace where we can live in peace.”

“Can we really?” Xavo shook his head. “Can I really abandon my daughter at the time of her greatest need? Can you walk away from the destruction that your father is foisting upon the world? How can we have an expectation of living in peace while the whole world is dying around us? No, my dear, we cannot flee from this savagery, not while we have any ability to stop it. Do not fool yourself for a single minute. There can be no peace in our hearts until Vand is vanquished.”

“At least you are not going to Vandegar merely to commit suicide,” Lady Mystic smiled weakly. “I will go with you and help you defeat my father, but promise me that you will not throw your life away. Promise me that you will try to give me the life of peace that I desire.”

“Nothing would please me more,” Xavo smiled as he embraced his lover, “but there are no guarantees in life. Vand most certainly will be expecting us. It will be tricky to stay alive long enough to kill him.”

“If we are even capable of killing him,” Lady Mystic warned softly. “There is no mage more powerful than Vand, and he will not be alone in his defense. He will surround himself with the most powerful mages available.”

“No one is indestructible,” replied Xavo as he broke the embrace. “We will head north from here to avoid anyone coming to investigate the smoke. We will also need to take a long, circuitous route to Vandegar to even get close to it without being detected. Come. Time is wasting.”

* * *

The weary Motangan army marched southeast, following Bakhai’s directions. The soldiers were tired and jittery. They had not had a decent night’s sleep in three days. Many of them still scratched welts from the insect attack two nights earlier. Others had been wounded in the fighting the night before when the Fakaran tribes attacked without warning. All of the soldiers were hungry, as no food had been delivered in over a week. The meager rations that were left from previous caravans were guarded jealously by the soldiers assigned to dole them out. There was not a smile on a single one of the two hundred thousand faces.

“The jungle,” General Luggar pointed as he rode alongside Premer Cardijja.

“Just where Bakhai said it would be,” nodded the premer. “Do you still take him for a spy?”

“I don’t know,” sighed the general. “We have had nothing but bad luck since he joined us. Then he miraculously disappeared during the raid on our camp. What else am I to suspect?”

“I imagine that he got scared and ran,” shrugged the premer. “I had promised him protection, but he must have known that I could not provide it. In his place, I might have run, too. As for bad luck pursuing us, the attack of the tribes had nothing to do with luck. It was a well coordinated and planned attack. They knew exactly where we were and chose their moment of attack at our weakest moment.”

“And the insects?” asked the general.

“Bad luck,” shrugged the premer, “but you can hardly lay that at Bakhai’s feet.”

“You miss him, don’t you?” asked the general, his eyebrow rising in sudden understanding.

“I do,” conceded the premer. “He was not a very bright lad, but he was likeable. Plus his knowledge of this strange land was invaluable. I hope he survived the attack of the tribes.”

“You had best not let too many know of your feelings for the lad,” warned the general. “All of the Fakarans are to be exterminated. That will include Bakhai in the end. If you attempt to alter the emperor’s orders to save the lad, your fate will be worse than his.”

“I know the emperor’s orders well,” scowled the premer. “I do not need you to remind me of them.”

“But you don’t agree with them?” questioned the general.

“We have known each other for many years, Luggar,” the premer said as he stared at his friend. “You know me well enough to understand that I favor other methods of defeating an enemy other than killing him. I have voiced my opinions to Tzargo before, so he knows where I stand. I have never understood why we could not just conquer and rule this new land. Why must we destroy it?”

“And how did Tzargo answer?” inquired the general.

“Harshly,” frowned Cardijja. “He threatened to remove me from command if I could not carry out his orders.”

“So we kill everything in our path,” Luggar nodded.

“Indeed,” agreed the premer, “but that does not mean that I have to like it. Even Bakhai will fall before our swords soon enough. I hope that he understands when the time comes.”

“Would you understand if you were in his place?” asked General Luggar.

The premer rode on in silence for a long time as he earnestly considered the question. Finally, he shook his head and sighed.

“I would like to think that I would try to understand,” admitted the premer, “but the truth is that I doubt that I would be able to. What harm would it be to overlook one death in all the thousands that we must kill?”

“Careful, Cardijja,” cautioned the general. “Such thinking will get you killed. Do not even consider such thoughts.”

Premer Cardijja opened his mouth to speak, but he quickly thought better of it. Instead he rode on in silence, staring at the approaching jungle. After a few minutes, he pushed Bakhai from his mind and addressed the general forcefully.

“I want all of the men into the jungle before dark,” ordered Premer Cardijja. “Make sure that the vanguard penetrates deep enough into the jungle to accommodate everyone behind them. Once we are all off of this infernal plain, I want to make camp for the night. Send out scouts to find food, and post a serious watch along the edge of the jungle. Quadruple the normal guard. If a single tribesman is seen on the plain, I want the entire camp to know about it.”