Richard Tuttle - Army of the Dead

“Kaltara watches over us,” nodded Lyra. “Warn those sentries, HawkShadow. We do not want casualties among our friends.”

Fisher walked through the Motangan encampment towards the ancient temple. He avoided everyone along his path, but he kept his ears open to pick up whatever information was available. Mostly what he heard were the rumblings of an army preparing for battle. There were rumors and boasting, but most of the talk was typical of men trying to hide their fear of the coming combat. The spy could almost feel sympathy for the Motangan soldiers, but he knew that these men were determined to kill his friends and anyone else who dared to object to the rule of Emperor Vand. The Khadoran spy reached the temple and mounted the stairs to the large doors leading inside. Two Motangan soldiers stationed at the doors stopped him.

“What business do you have inside?” demanded one of the guards.

“I must report to Premer Tzargo,” lied Fisher.

“Report to your section commander,” the guard shook his head. “You have no business inside the temple.”

The heads of nearby soldiers swiveled towards the confrontation. It was probably a scene that was played out numerous times over the course of a single day, but Fisher loathed being the center of attention. He also knew that if he failed to gain entry on the first attempt, he would never get in. The guards would grow more suspicious each time he returned to try again. Fisher’s body stiffened and grew rigid as he stepped closer to the guard.

“I was told to keep watch on the eastern perimeter and report any abnormalities directly to Premer Tzargo,” Fisher said as forcefully as he could. “If I am not permitted to perform my duties, I will make sure that both of you are listed as the reason for my failure.”

The guard stepped back a pace from the verbal assault, but he still gazed at Fisher with suspicion. Many soldiers tried to gain entrance to the temple merely to get out of the sun, and he had strict orders to admit only those with permission.

“The eastern perimeter?” balked the guard. “The attack is coming from the west.”

The other guard stepped forward and appraised Fisher with a keen eye.

“What group are you with?” he asked.

“I am with Premer Cardijja,” declared Fisher. “I brought a message to Premer Tzargo last month and have since been assigned to watch the eastern perimeter. I am currently staying with Savesto’s group.”

“I know Savesto,” the second guard said cautiously. “He is indeed on the eastern perimeter. He likes to stay as far away from the temple as possible. He’s not a very personable fellow.”

“No, he isn’t,” Fisher agreed harshly, “but he has never interfered with my mission either. Are you going to step aside, or do I have to summon an officer to report that you feel the need to override Premer Tzargo’s orders?”

“I still don’t get it,” frowned the first guard. “There should be nothing to report to the east. What is it that you have seen that is so important?”

“What I have to report,” Fisher seethed with feigned hostility, “I will report to Premer Tzargo as ordered, not to a door guard with an over inflated opinion of his own importance.”

The first guard stiffened at the rebuke, but the second guard chuckled.

“Ouch,” quipped the second guard. “Those are fighting words. Why don’t you let him pass before the two of you end up on the injured list?”

The first guard turned and glared at his companion. “I suppose you will merely stand by and watch?” he asked his partner.

“If the man wants shade bad enough to fight you for it,” shrugged the second guard, “I am not getting involved. Besides, there is a fair chance that his story is true. I am not about to offer myself up for a grievance with the Premer. Let him by.”

The first guard turned and glared at Fisher again, but his stance softened.

“We will ask Premer Tzargo about your mission later,” he warned Fisher. “If you lied to us, we will see you hanged for it. Get moving.”

Fisher wasn’t sure from the man’s words if he was being dismissed or admitted to the temple, but he knew where he needed to go. He walked past the guard and opened the door, half expecting a sword to be thrust into his back. He breathed a sigh of relief as the door closed behind him. As for the man’s promise to interrogate the Premer, Fisher recognized that as mere bravado. No door guard would dare to admit that he had let someone into the temple that he was unsure of.

Fisher moved away from the door in almost total blindness. The gloomy interior was like total darkness compared to the blazing sun outside. He waited a few minutes to let his eyes adjust to gloom and then moved cautiously towards the interior. For the next couple of hours, the spy roamed around the interior of the palace, his ears constantly straining to pick up snippets of conversation. While there was talk about the coming battle, he learned nothing startling. No battle strategies were openly discussed, and he heard nothing to indicate that the Motangans were aware of any approaching force other than the Khadorans. He began to feel as if the visit to the temple had been a waste of time, but there was one major item on his list that he had not yet accomplished.

Fisher made his way to the top of the stairs. The top level of the temple was the location of the throne room, and a large contingent of soldiers stood between the two staircases. Fisher knew that he would never gain entrance to the throne room to verify that Vand was indeed there, but the top level also led to the roof of the temple, and it was there that Fisher wanted to go.

The Khadoran spy turned away from the throne room and moved along a corridor where the sunshine was streaming in from the far end. He shielded his eyes from the brilliant sun as he stepped out onto the roof. Squinting as he surveyed the roof, he saw no one. The roof of the temple was a vast flat area broken only by the small section of the temple in the center that rose slightly higher. Once out the doorway, Fisher turned to the north and headed for the edge of the roof.

He halted at the edge and stared into the distance at the ancient city of Vandegar. As his eyes became accustomed to the brightness, the spy saw movement in the ancient city. His mouth fell open and his eyes twitched as he watched skeleton-like figures moving about. There were untold thousands of the creatures, and Fisher felt a shiver race up his spine. He found it hard to believe what he was watching, a whole city infested with dead warriors, but warriors that weren’t quite dead, for the dead did not walk around and carry swords. The Khadoran spy instantly knew that it was urgent to get word of this discovery back to the Astor.

“What are you doing out here?” demanded a voice of authority. “This area is strictly forbidden.”

Fisher turned slowly and saw a Motangan officer standing a mere pace away. The officer held his sword ready as he glared at Fisher.

“I got lost,” Fisher shrugged nervously.

“And you will remain lost forever,” the officer snarled as he raised his sword.

“Wait,” pleaded Fisher. “I am not really lost. I heard about the ancient city of Vandegar. I just had to see what we are fighting for. Spare me this one time. Please.”

“Only the god Vand can spare you from my wrath,” snapped the officer as his sword began to swing towards Fisher’s neck, “and he will have to do it in your next life.”

Fisher dropped to the floor as the sword swung over his head. The spy landed on his rump and promptly swiveled his body, using his feet to sweep the officer’s legs out from under him. The officer fell to the floor, and Fisher leaped upon the man’s body, a knife sliding from its arm sheath into his hand. Even as Fisher drove the knife deep into the officer’s heart, he knew that he was caught. Beyond the body of the officer, Fisher saw a pair of feet approaching rapidly. The feet protruded out of a black cloak, and Fisher’s eyes rose to see a Motangan mage approaching. The mage’s hand darted out before him, and the spy knew that a spell was about to be cast. Fisher rolled frantically away from the dead officer in a futile attempt to avoid the magical spell. He heard the air sizzle at the unleashing of the magical spell and waited for the pain to envelope his body.