Richard Tuttle - Army of the Dead

“It has to be now,” urged Formone. “The mages are coming.”

The Sakovan fired the harpoon just as an arrow pierced his skull. Formone watched in rapt fascination as the harpoon blasted through the wooden hull. He felt the arrow hit his chest, but he was not surprised. He smiled as the smoke billowed out of the hole in the behemoth, and then he fell face first to the floor of the skimmer.

* * *

“I want to know the amount of damage,” Premer Doralin shouted. “Get some more of those lights into the sky.”

One of the mages cast a spell and sent a bright projectile screaming into the sky. The premer turned slowly in a complete circle viewing the catastrophic damage inflicted on his fleet. There was not a single quarter where some of his ships were not sinking. He cursed under his breath.

“I want mages to contact every single ship in the armada,” demanded the premer. “Make a list of those who answer and those who do not. I must know the strength of my armies.”

General Valatosa hurried across the deck of the ship and halted alongside the premer. For a moment neither man spoke as they surveyed the devastation around them.

“I would estimate a third of the fleet is gone,” the general said softly. “That still leaves us with two hundred thousand men. That should be more than enough for the task at hand.”

“It should be,” snapped the premer, “providing those nasty little boats don’t return for another bite at us,”

“The ones that attacked us will never be returning,” replied the general. “It was a suicide mission. None of them survived. They didn’t even try to escape like the last time. They kept firing those harpoons until we killed them. You have to admire their courage.”

“I do admire their courage,” nodded the premer, “as well as their cunning in coming back after dark, but this episode makes me more determined to see those people annihilated. We have lost a tremendous amount of good men before this war is even started. I am now anxious to seize Alamar and show these Sakovans what ruthless cunning is meant to be.”

“We will have to slow the fleet soon,” commented General Valatosa. “We are getting close to shore.”

“We will slow,” nodded the premer, “but not before we change our formation. As soon as I get a list of functioning ships, we will guarantee the end of such surprise attacks. I want the fleet tightened up with a column of ships on each flank a distance off from the rest of the fleet. Those columns are to maintain a constant watch for enemy vessels. If an enemy ship passes the column into our fleet, I will hang the captain of the column ship who allowed it to pass.”

“A clever plan,” smiled the general. “We should pass that strategy back to Motanga.”

“I am not ready to report our losses to Vand,” Premer Doralin said softly. “Let us have a victory under our belt before we report in. That will soften the blow of our losses. In the morning we will crush Alamar. Tomorrow evening will be soon enough for a report.”

Emperor Marak walked into the Lords’ Council chamber and found the members of the council leaning over a large map. He walked over to the group to listen to the conversation.

“The trenches are the lines that I have added to the map,” explained Lord Quilo. “They are narrow enough that a horse can jump them, but too wide for a man.”

“Then you are assuming that the Motangans will use only infantry?” asked Lord Chenowith.

“That is what has been passed on to me,” shrugged Lord Quilo.

“He is correct,” interjected the Emperor. “The information that we have is that the Motangan cavalry is minimal. With a million men they do not need to rely on speed. Besides, they would have needed three times as many ships if their armies were primarily cavalries. The width of the trenches is excellent for our needs. Our cavalries can buy time for our infantry to retreat and destroy the bridges and then the horsemen can leap over the trenches. The Motangans will be slowed down.”

“Welcome back, Emperor,” smiled Lord Chenowith. “I understand that you have been out of the city.”

“I visited Alamar,” nodded Marak. “The Sakovans need our help.”

“What do they need?” asked Lord Patel.

“I am not sure yet,” sighed the Emperor, “but at the very least we must house thousands of their people here in Khadoratung. I have ordered my fleet to begin bringing the Sakovans in by ship.”

“How many thousands?” asked Lord Faliman.

“A lot,” shrugged Emperor Marak. “Alamar will probably be attacked in the morning. Right now the only road out of the city is clogged with evacuees. They are going to use fishing boats to ferry the people to Tanzaba. My ships will pick them up there and bring them here. We must create a temporary city for them.”

“I have thousands of people working on the trenches,” frowned Lord Quilo. “I do not know how much time we have to finish the work, but I would hate to lose any of them. Can we afford the manpower to build a city? Can the Sakovans help with the labor?”

“The Sakovans will be mostly women and children,” Marak shook his head. “The male citizens are staying to fight.”

“We could use the armies of the clans in the Imperial Valley,” suggested Lord Chenowith.

“Not for long,” replied the Torak. “Those armies will constitute the bulk of our defense. I want to leave the frontier armies on the frontiers in case Vand has surprises in store for us, such as landing in Zaramilden and bringing his armies over the Kalatung Mountains. Our first line of defense will be the clans inhabiting the eastern coastal region. The armies of the Imperial Valley will be the second line of defense. By that time we will know what Vand’s strategy is, and all of the clans of Khadora will join in.”

“Do you still plan on holding to a scorched retreat policy?” asked Lord Kiamesh. “Because if you do, food is going to become scarce, especially with thousands of Sakovans relying on us.”

“The Motangans will be the ones starving to death,” countered the Emperor. “If we start starving, we will have lost the war.”

“We could open up the Imperial Palace to the homeless,” suggested Lord Jamarat. “I also have room on my estate. Other lords must have space as well, now that our mages have left.”

“He has a good point,” shrugged Lord Patel. “The palace will hold thousands. Also, many lords have homes in Khadoratung. They can be used as temporary quarters until suitable housing is built, on a voluntary basis of course.”

“All of those ideas are acceptable to me,” smiled the Torak. “I have two homes in Khadoratung and will allow them to be used for the Sakovans. Lord Jamarat, your training days are just about over. I would like you to handle the Sakovan people coming to Khadoratung. I think you have the right ideas to deal with it. Will you accept?”

“Gladly,” beamed the Neju lord. “I will make them happy.”

Marak smiled at Lord Jamarat. The man had suffered from brain damage as a child and his thinking processes and speech often reflected that of a child, but Emperor Marak had noticed a distinct improvement since his marriage to the mage Latril.

“Where will the Chula figure into all of this?” asked Lord Chenowith.

“I am going to speak to them tonight,” replied the Torak. “Their style of fighting is rather unconventional. I am tempted to ask them to help the Sakovans, but I worry that we may need their help up here in Khadora.”

“What are the Sakovans facing?” asked Lord Patel.

“Three hundred thousand Motangans are on their way to Alamar,” answered Marak. “They should be attacking in the morning.”