Richard Tuttle - Army of the Dead

“Legend says that they are immune to magic,” retorted Lady Mystic.

“Legends have been wrong before,” countered Xavo.

“Perhaps,” Vand’s daughter conceded, “but you would only have seconds to prove it wrong. Your first spell would be your last before their talons ripped you to shreds. What spell would you attempt?”

Xavo stood in contemplation for a moment before sighing. “Let’s get out of the sun,” he said dryly.

The couple continued walking across the parched land towards the temple. They did not hurry, nor did they dally. As they got closer to the building, they were forced to thread their way through groups of Motangan soldiers that had set up camp outside the temple. Directly around the temple were the thickest crowds of soldiers. Xavo stepped in front of Lady Mystic and, while still holding her hand, led the way single file through the throng of Motangans.

When they reached the front of the temple, they marched up the stairs and found the doors closed. Xavo led Lady Mystic to one side and halted. He did not dare to open the door to gain entrance to the temple. To do so would expose their existence. Patiently, the two mages waited for the door to open. The wait seemed interminable as they listened to the banter of the nearby soldiers.

“I heard that the Khadorans are only two days away,” remarked a hawk-nosed soldier.

“Have you heard their numbers?” asked his bald companion.

“No,” admitted the first soldier, “but numbers hardly matter in this battle. The dead warriors will take the brunt of any attack. We will be lucky if any Khadorans even reach the temple.”

“The rest of our armies did not fair well against these Khadorans and their friends,” retorted the bald man. “Don’t be so sure that the dead will slow them down.”

“Half a million invincible warriors?” chuckled the first soldier. “Don’t be ridiculous. I have heard that they cannot die.”

“They are already dead,” countered the bald man. “I do not like this magic stuff. How can they be invincible if they have already died once?”

“Well,” pondered the first soldier, “it is said that we cannot die any more, either. So what are you worried about?”

“I do not believe everything that I am told,” snapped the bald man. “If you think that we will rise from the dead to continue fighting, then you go ahead and believe that. I intend to stay alive.”

The door opened as a group of soldiers filed out. Xavo moved quickly to snare the door before it could close. He swiftly led Lady Mystic through the doors into the temple. The two mages paused inside the doors to let their eyes adjust to the dimness. As soon as his vision was clear, Xavo led Lady Mystic to the stairway and up the stairs.

Lady Mystic marveled at the similarities of the Vandegar Temple to the one she had grown up in on the Island of Darkness. She had heard that the Motangan temple was modeled after an ancient one, but she was filled with awe to actually be in the original temple. She was vaguely aware of being led by Xavo as if he knew exactly where he was going, but her mind was distant as she tried to visualize what life must have been like in the ancient temple in the days of its glory.

Unexpectedly, Xavo stopped at a blank spot on the wall of a corridor. He waved his hand slightly while mumbling under his breath, and a door appeared in the wall. The mage opened the door and ushered Lady Mystic inside. He closed the door and cast a spell over it. Lady Mystic shook her head in confusion and cast an illumination spell so that she could see in the dark windowless wall. She involuntarily inhaled deeply when she saw the skeleton on the floor.

“An old friend,” Xavo shrugged softly as he picked up a chair that had been tipped over.

He placed the chair at a nearby table and ushered Lady Mystic into it. He then walked around the table and sat opposite her.

“Who was he?” she asked.

“His name was Brakas,” answered Xavo. “He was a Fakaran who aided Vand’s mages here. His death was satisfying, but I hid the room to avoid anyone discovering the body before I caught up with Smarc at the mouth of the Meliban River.”

“So no one knows that this room even exists?” asked Lady Mystic.

“I cannot guarantee that,” shrugged Xavo, “but we should be safer here than anywhere else that I can think of. What were those soldiers saying about a half million dead warriors?”

“I have no idea,” confessed Vand’s daughter, “but I did notice the mark of the hellsoul on each of those soldiers at the entrance to the temple. My father appears to be forming a formidable army to deal with the Torak.”

“And it appeared that the Torak’s forces were actually winning this war,” sighed Xavo. “Vand sacrificed a million men in attempts to secure the mainland. Do you think that was all a ruse to allow him to return here without opposition?”

“No,” Lady Mystic answered after some thought. “I think my father has had a lot of time to dwell upon his revenge. I am sure that he worked out several different attacks to control the mainland. The other invasions were serious attempts to annihilate the people living here, but it was not his only plan. The defense of Vandegar may not even be his last plan. There is no way to know.”

“Well there are some things that we must find out,” Xavo declared as he stripped off his pack and withdrew his black cloak and put it on.

“You are leaving the room already?” asked Lady Mystic. “Why not rest a bit first?”

“We do not know how long Pakar will be gone from the temple,” answered Xavo. “The soldiers are conditioned not to interfere with a mage, so it makes sense to find out what we can as quickly as we can. You can rest here while I go sniffing around.”

“That is hardly an option,” Lady Mystic shook her head. “Two can search quicker than one. Let me get my cloak on before you unseal the door.”

* * *

Thousands of Fakaran tribesmen gathered at the great bulge of the Meliban River, which was halfway between the Valley of Bones and Vandegar. The free tribes had followed the north fork of the river, while the Jiadin had proceeded along the south fork. The ancient forests along the banks of the Meliban River had escaped the devastation wrought by the mages of the old invaders, and the two massive armies met under the thick canopy to begin their ride across the open plains towards Vandegar.

By the time the free tribes reached the meeting place, the Jiadin had been waiting for two days. King Rejji, shaman Bakhai, and Marshal Wyant dismounted and walked towards the Jiadin encampment. Wyant led the way through the Jiadin camps until he saw the Jiadin leader. Harmagan rose with three of his fellow tribesmen.

“We meet again, Marshal,” smiled Harmagan. “I am sure you remember my little brother, Scarab. The others are Jaker and Niger. What took you so long? We have been waiting days for you and we had the longest path to get here.”

Rejji stared open-mouthed at Harmagan’s brother. His mouth opened to speak, but Bakhai’s hand was quick to land upon his brother’s arm. He purposely stepped in front of Rejji and spoke.

“It is proper to show respect to the king,” admonished the shaman.

Harmagan frowned in confusion for a moment, but his recovery was quick enough to avoid embarrassment. He bowed towards King Rejji.

“We meant no disrespect,” the Jiadin said earnestly. “It is hard for the Jiadin to grow accustomed to such formalities.”

Rejji smiled and nodded as he stepped around Bakhai.

“Then let us sit and talk,” Rejji said in a friendly manner. “I am not used to these formalities either.”

The men sat around a fire, and Harmagan ordered food for the new arrivals.