Richard Tuttle - Army of the Dead

“So that is why you have turned from Vand and Tzargo?” frowned Luggar. “You feel that they are using you?”

“Of course they are using me,” chuckled Cardijja. “That has always been plain to any man with half a brain. It is the way of rulers. They use the little people to obtain their goals. A soldier is used to being used,” he continued, “but not abused. Doralin, Shamal, and myself were kept in the dark about the true nature of the people that we are tasked to destroy. We were led to believe that they were savages that needed to be exterminated.”

“And you don’t think they are?” inquired the general.

“Their attacks have been brilliant,” answered the premer. “They have stood up against a vastly superior force and suffered few casualties. If we had been expecting such a tough fight, the outcomes may have been different. That is what I hold against Vand and Tzargo. They have wasted thousands of Motangan lives and for what purpose?”

“Is it not our task to win the battles?” frowned Luggar. “Sure they could have been more straightforward about the enemy, but that is hardly a valid reason to rebel against them.”

“We could have conquered these lands with few losses,” retorted Cardijja, “but that is not enough for Vand. He wants these people exterminated, and he doesn’t care how many of us die to accomplish it. Don’t you see, Luggar? He cares for our men as little as he cares for the enemy.”

The Motangan encampment quickly succumbed to sleep. The weary and exhausted soldiers barely finished eating before nodding off. General Luggar walked around the camp and then entered the premer’s tent. Premer Cardijja was fast asleep, and the general decided to catch some sleep himself. He left the premer’s tent and was walking through the sleeping camp when shouting came from the east. He started to run towards the noise when he heard more shouting from the west. The general stopped short and tilted his head, listening for the words of the shouting soldiers. Within moments he heard shouts from every direction. The cries of battle filled the air, and the general raced back to the premer’s tent. He grabbed a soldier and ordered him to find out what was happening. He tore open the flap and found the premer rising from his nap.

“What is it, Luggar?” asked the premer.

“It is an attack,” reported the general. “I just sent a man to investigate. It appears to be an attack from all sides. I was going to check myself, but I thought it wiser to awaken you.”

The premer nodded and belted on his sword. He strode out of the tent, and the general followed. They stood silently outside the tent listening to the sounds.

“Archers,” commented Cardijja. “Did you say the attack was from all quarters?”

“It is,” nodded the general.

“Issue orders to pull the troops inward,” commanded the premer. “We may be surrounded, but it does not sound as if the enemy is charging. Create a tight circle, Luggar. I want shields on the outside and archers on the inside.”

General Luggar ran off to deliver the premer’s orders. Moments later a soldier ran towards the tent and halted in front of the premer. He was clearly out of breath, and Cardijja waited patiently for the message.

“General Luggar sent me out to discover the nature of the attack,” reported the soldier. “We are under attack by archers.”

“I gathered as much,” nodded Cardijja. “Are there any horsemen about?”

“No horses that anyone can see,” the soldier shook his head. “Some of the men swear that they saw elves, but that can’t be, can it?”

Premer Cardijja subconsciously bit his lip as he pondered the question. There should be no elves in Fakara, at least according to the spies, but those same spies had missed other important things, like giant spiders and small humans with blowpipes. He had been informed of the fall of the Island of Darkness to the elves, so he was certain that they had joined up with the enemy, but what would they be doing in this particular forest? Suddenly the answer dawned to the premer.

“It is elves attacking,” shouted General Luggar as he raced towards the tent. “What in the blazes are the elves doing here?”

“Killing us,” Cardijja said calmly. “The attack will not last long, but the elves will be back later.”

“Explain yourself,” frowned the general as he waved the soldier away.

“They mean to keep us from sleeping,” explained the premer. “That is what the enemy always intended to do. Make us weary with exhaustion, and pick us off in small slivers until we are all dead. What a deviously brilliant plan. It doesn’t matter how large an army we have. They will continue to harass us until we are all dead. The horsemen sleep while the spiders attack. When they wake up they attack us on the plains, then they sleep and the elves fire arrows into our camp all night. No doubt the horsemen will be back tomorrow.”

“We cannot allow that,” scowled the general. “We must counterattack.”

“Counterattack?” echoed the premer. “And how do you suggest we do that? Have you ever tried finding elves in the forest? Why do you think the kruls were created? I will tell you. It was not just for their strength that the mages developed them. They also have a keen sense of smell, particularly suited to hunting runaway elves. When the alarms go off on the Island of Darkness, what are the rules?”

“The army seals the city, and the kruls are sent out to hunt the escapees,” the general nodded in defeat.

“Precisely,” replied the premer. “Oh, some soldiers will be sent out on patrols as well, but they are mostly to herd the elves to where the kruls can find them.”

“So what do we do?” asked the general as the sounds of battle diminished. “We cannot just stay here and be targets for the elves.”

“No, we can’t,” agreed the premer, “but I am at a loss as to what we should do. We could organize patrols and send them out to hunt the elves, but I doubt that they will return to camp. I wonder how many elves we are facing?”

“There is no way to know,” shrugged the general as he followed the premer into the tent. “Do you want me to go out and ask them?” he added sarcastically.

“Wouldn’t it be nice if they would answer?” replied the premer as he grabbed a torch and placed it into a holder near the table.

Cardijja stared at the map in silence for some time. General Luggar fidgeted, clearly uncomfortable with the silence.

“The question, Luggar,” the premer finally said, “is how did the elves get here? If they were here when we marched by this forest on the way to the jungle, why didn’t they attack then? And why didn’t our men find them when they hunted the deer?”

“They must not have been here then,” shrugged Luggar.

“Then where were they hiding?” asked Cardijja. “Certainly not in the jungle. They would have attacked us there as well. They didn’t come from the east across the plains. We would have seen them.”

“So they came from the west,” shrugged the general. “What difference does it make? The important thing is that they have us surrounded. It doesn’t matter a bit how they got here.”

“That is where you are wrong, Luggar,” smiled the premer. “How they got here matters a great deal. I will tell you why in a moment. What I need to understand is if they have been around since Bakhai arrived in our camp. The elf that was trying to kill him was the first hint of elves in this land. Now you have always been suspicious of Bakhai, so you are the perfect person to ask this of. Were the elves around our camp when Bakhai came to us?”

General Luggar had never trusted the Fakaran youngster, but he knew that Cardijja had a soft spot in his heart for the lad. He remembered that patrols had been sent out in search of the elf, and those patrols turned up nothing.