Richard Tuttle - Army of the Dead

“We must order Cardijja to come here immediately,” urged Premer Tzargo. “My men are the best in the army, but we are only fifty thousand strong. We need Cardijja’s men.”

“Cardijja is finding Angragar,” the emperor shook his head. “That is more important to me. Your men will defend Vandegar.”

“But we are only fifty thousand,” objected the premer. “I need more men against such a large army.”

“More?” scowled Vand. “Have I not given you control over a million men? You continue to disappoint me, Tzargo. I have let you plan the invasions and divide your forces as you saw fit. We have had nothing but failure after failure. Tell me why you should continue to live.”

“I am loyal to you,” Premer Tzargo uttered quickly. “I have devoted my life to protecting you. I cannot be blamed for Doralin’s cowardice or Shamal’s failure. You approved of both of them for their positions. I am only asking for more men to better protect you.”

“How many more men do you need?” asked the emperor.

“As many as I can get,” Tzargo replied with a hint of hope in his voice.

“Two times your current number?” questioned the emperor. “Ten times?”

Premer Tzargo frowned at the emperor’s questions. He knew that there was no chance for either of the options offered to him. Only Cardijja’s army remained to draw from, and that could hardly be equivalent to ten times Tzargo’s troops.

“I will make use of every man that you can get me,” promised Premer Tzargo. “You will be protected.”

Vand smiled darkly at the premer. “Then I shall make your army increase tenfold, “ he said softly. “Go and gather your men, Tzargo. Arrange all fifty thousand in a line that I may bless them each individually. When I am done, your army will be invincible.”

Premer Tzargo swallowed hard as he realized that the emperor was going to make each of his soldiers into a hellsoul. A shudder ran through his body, but he bowed respectfully and backed out of the chamber.

General Luggar entered the premer’s tent and found Cardijja staring at the map of Fakara. The premer looked up briefly to see who was entering, but he quickly returned his attention to the hand drawn markings on the map.

“There are no markings on the map for this jungle,” commented General Luggar as he crossed the room and stood alongside the premer. “Your interest in the map tells me that you are planning to retreat.”

“Is there any other option?” sighed Cardijja. “The men are frightened like children. Sending the mages out to battle the spiders was a great mistake on my part. The men know that there are no healers left for them.”

“You had no reason to believe that all of the mages would die,” sympathized the general. “Do not blame yourself.”

“Who am I to blame then?” scowled the premer. “I lead this army. All responsibility falls to me. I have managed to send my men into a deathtrap. No, Luggar, I must blame myself. I can hardly blame the men for wanting to run from this infernal jungle. Come morning, we are leaving here and heading westward. Let Premer Tzargo find the lost city of Angragar. My task now is to preserve as many of my men as possible.”

“You can’t be serious?” gasped General Luggar. “Tzargo will kill you for defying him, and that would be getting off easy. If Vand hears of it, you will be slowly tortured in public to make a spectacle of you.”

“I fully understand the consequences of my actions,” shrugged Cardijja, “but I will not throw away the lives of my men.”

“Your men will just be sent out under a new premer after you are killed,” Luggar pointed out. “You will not be saving them from anything. You are a premer, Cardijja. Your task is to lead your armies to defeat the enemy. I do not understand this change in you.”

“You will come to understand it,” frowned the premer. “I suspect that you will be chosen to replace me. When your promotion is given, remember well what happens here in the jungle this night.”

“What do you mean?” questioned the general. “When what happens?”

“When the spiders attack, Luggar,” replied the premer. “Surely you are not foolish enough to think that we will be allowed to sleep until morning? Our enemy is much too clever for that.”

“You think the spiders are intelligent?” asked the general. “You speak of them as if they were in league with our enemies.”

“I am sure of it,” nodded Cardijja. “Oh, the reports from the soldiers we sent out might lead one to believe that the spiders merely saw us as intruders and a food source, but the deaths of the mages make me see things differently. Cymelange’s mages may have been pompous and obnoxious, but they were intelligent men. They went into the jungle specifically to find the spiders. They could not have been trapped as the soldiers were.”

“Perhaps the mages did not die because of the spiders,” offered Luggar. “Cymelange spoke of small people and poison darts.”

“Exactly,” Cardijja nodded exaggeratedly. “He spoke of people and spiders in the same breath. Now tell me, why is it these small people can survive among the spiders that killed six thousand of our soldiers? Have you considered the implications of that thought?”

General Luggar remained silent for several moments and finally shook his head. “I see where your thoughts are coming from,” admitted the general, “but you have no proof of it. Perhaps the spiders do normally feed on the small people, but couldn’t resist the men we sent into the jungle.”

“Inconceivable,” countered Cardijja. “The spiders were capable of capturing almost every one of the soldiers that we sent in. No small people could live in such an environment unless the spiders were their allies. No, Luggar, the spiders are intelligent, and they will attack before dawn. They are merely waiting until our fear is at its apex. That fear will work to their advantage. Instead of facing two hundred thousand men ready to defend this camp, they will be attacking two hundred thousand soldiers trying to flee from the jungle. Our losses will be severe.”

“If you truly believe this,” frowned the general, “you should be ordering the men out of the jungle immediately.”

”I would have done that an hour ago,” sighed the premer, “except for the reports from the sentries. It appears that Fakaran horsemen are prowling the plains outside the jungle. They would like nothing better than to strike us under the cover of darkness once again.”

“And the Fakarans have not attempted to enter the jungle?” asked General Luggar.

“Not even a single probe,” Cardijja shook his head. “It is as if they already know where we are and what we are up against. Can you think of any other reason for them to be riding along the edge of the jungle in plain sight of our sentries?”

“No,” admitted Luggar. “Such an appearance is most certainly designed to keep us here for the night.”

“Precisely,” nodded Cardijja. “They sit out there like vultures waiting to pick off the weak and wounded as we run from the jungle.”

“What are you going to do about it?” asked General Luggar.

“I am not sure,” conceded the premer, “but something must be done soon. We cannot allow the Fakarans to drive our strategy. There was a long strand of forest before we reached the jungle. Do you remember it?”

“I do,” nodded the general. “We discussed moving into it if the Fakaran horsemen returned before we reached the jungle. It ran to the north for as far as I could see.”

“I want to devise a plan to reach it,” declared the premer.

“That is a half-day’s march,” frowned the general. “We would lose thousands of men to the horsemen before we reached it.”