Richard Tuttle - Army of the Dead

“And Cardijja’s men are only tired,” added Tamar, “not demoralized. If we give them the chance to sleep, they will attack us with a renewed vigor. We can still lose this war, Bakhai. Take nothing for granted.”

“If you burn this forest and force the Motangans onto the plains,” countered Bakhai, “the tribes can attack them, but we will lose thousands upon thousands of men to defeat them. Rejji cannot afford such losses if we are to march on Vandegar. Perhaps if I reentered the Motangan camp and spoke to Premer Cardijja, he would see the need to surrender.”

Princess Alahara frowned as she wove another air tunnel. Within minutes she had located Rejji and explained the situation to him.

“You cannot stop the Motangans from marching,” replied the Astor. “You just don’t have enough archers to halt such a massive army, and the tribes cannot attack in the forest. Cardijja will march his army into the Valley of Bones. We cannot stop him from doing so, but we can plan to make sure that he does not ever leave it. I will post the Jiadin at the western exit from the Valley of Bones. The free tribes will block the east after the Motangans are enclosed in the valley.”

“And in the meantime?” asked the elven princess.

“Show me what the elves can do to an enemy, Mistake,” grinned the Astor. “Harass them. Kill them. Terrorize them. Do not unnecessarily endanger the elves, but lessen the number of Motangans that must be dealt with in the Valley of Bones.”

“Will you be at the valley?” asked Alahara.

“Everyone will be at the Valley of Bones,” answered Rejji. “It is the final battle for Premer Cardijja and his men. Once the Motangans enter the valley, they will not be allowed to leave again.”

“Do not mistake these Motangans for Jiadin,” warned Alahara. “These men know how to climb cliffs. Merely sealing the exits from the valley will not contain Cardijja’s men. They have no horses to worry about.”

“That is why the elves will be needed there,” replied Rejji. “Your archers will hold the high ground and deny any escape up the cliffs. The Qubari will seal the exits, and the tribes will prepare to charge into the valley to finish off the Motangans. Before two nights have passed, the Motangan army will no longer exist.”

“What if I ask for their surrender?” Bakhai said into the air tunnel. “Maybe we can avoid all of this killing.”

“No, Bakhai,” Rejji replied sternly. “Under no circumstances are you to enter their camp. They would immediately know that you have spied on them, and I am not prepared to sacrifice my brother for such a fruitless plan. We cannot expect the surrender of such a large army. Cardijja is not a fool. If he can get sleep for his men, he can still march on Angragar and seize it for Vand.”

After agreeing to Rejji’s plan, Princess Alahara dropped the air tunnel and called for the mages. She explained what she wanted in terms of illusions and then called for a meeting of the unit leaders. The elven officers gathered around, and the princess explained the plan. Bakhai quickly grew bored with the discussion. He rose and paced the forest, inexplicably being drawn towards the Motangan encampment. As he stood in the darkness peering at the Motangan sentries from the cover of a tree, Cardijja’s words replayed in his mind. He was not entirely sure why, but Premer Cardijja appeared to be a reasonable man to Bakhai. While the Motangans had to be halted, the thought of killing them all did not sit well. Bakhai had hoped that the Valley of Bones would allow for a Motangan surrender, but no one else believed that possible, especially not the Motangans.

* * *

Premer Cardijja winced as another volley of elven arrows sailed into the camp. Scores of Motangans fell to the arrows. The red-clad soldiers fired back, but they were firing blindly. The elves were so well concealed that they might as well have been invisible.

“When will this end?” asked General Luggar. “We cannot just sit here and endure this.”

“No, we can’t,” agreed the premer. “I had hoped for some element of surprise when we made our move, but this attack is far longer than the last. Sound the call for the men to move northward. If we are to die, let us do it as warriors, not targets.”

General Luggar signaled a soldier, and the man blew hard on his horn. As if eagerly awaiting the signal, thousands of Motangan soldiers immediately rose in the center of the encampment, shouts of war ripping through the air. The center of the camp surged to the north as the men on the perimeter stepped aside. The Motangans charged into the darkness of the forest, their voices shouting death to the hidden elves. As the men along the camp perimeter held their positions, the rest of the Motangans surged after the vanguard. They spread out at angles to encompass the entire width of the forest, or what they perceived to be the edge of the forest.

“The elves to the north must have been defeated,” noted the general. “There are no more arrows coming in from that direction.”

“More likely they retreated,” Premer Cardijja shook his head. “Even with a good hiding spot, I would not stand in the path of this army. The elves will halt and fire at the vanguard and then retreat again. Let’s mount up.”

The officers mounted and rode into the center of the marching army. When the bulk of the Motangans had pushed northward, the perimeter guards folded in towards the center of the camp and became the rear guard for the advance to the north.

“The men appear more energetic than I would have expected,” commented Luggar as they rode protected in the mass of Motangan soldiers.

“That will not last,” replied Cardijja. “They had a small amount of sleep, but they are quickly wearing themselves out. I expect the elves will continue to harass us throughout this march northward. The sooner we reach the Valley of Bones, the better.”

“And the Fakaran horsemen?” questioned the general. “Will they be waiting for us between the forest and the valley?”

“That is something that we must plan for,” nodded the premer. “I have given orders to halt at the edge of the forest. At that point we should have elves only behind us. I intend to exit the forest in the daylight. I would rather suffer an elven attack at night than another devastating charge from the horsemen.”

“What if we can get the elves to move from their concealment by pushing them onto the plain?” questioned the general.

“Then the elves will die,” the premer said with hope in his voice. “They are excellent archers, but they must be far fewer than we are. If they leave their concealment, we will attack them and destroy them.”

The officers rode on in silence for some time. The sounds of battle were evident from both the vanguard and the tail of the column. While there were no reports from the rear, the results of the battle at the front of the column were evident. A steady trail of Motangan bodies was visible to the officers even in the darkness of the forest.

“We are losing many men,” General Luggar finally said as his horse stepped over a body. “Most of the elves must be before us.”

“We are losing too many,” frowned Premer Cardijja. “I would gladly trade ten thousand men for a decent night’s sleep for the rest, but we may end up losing even more than that. These soldiers are at the end of their endurance.”

“We all are,” the general said softly. “I will be glad when this night ends, and we exit this forest of death.”

* * *

In front of the Motangan vanguard, a group of elven archers fired arrows into the advancing enemy. They started in the center of the vanguard and worked their way towards the edges of the forest where they stepped into the illusion and regrouped. The group of elves then raced northward inside the illusion while another group of elves repeated the procedure. The result was a constant attack on the Motangan vanguard, and red-clad bodies littered the forest floor.