Richard Tuttle - Army of the Dead

“The whole country of Khadora would have had to come eastward to defeat the dead warriors,” retorted one of the soldiers.

“Exactly,” nodded Aki. “Every able man in Khadora is on the way here. I have been ordered to get Premer Cardijja’s army to come here immediately.”

“That’s great,” exclaimed Savesto. “I don’t have a problem with a few hundred thousand more warriors joining the fun. What is the problem with that?”

“The problem,” Aki said with an air of failure, “is that I neglected to get authorization to use a horse. There is no way that I will reach Cardijja in time for his armies to get here.”

“That is no problem,” shrugged one of the men. “Just go back and get authorization.”

“You don’t understand,” Aki shook his head. “The mood inside the temple is murderous. An officer made a suggestion that Premer Tzargo did not enjoy. He was immediately decapitated and thrown from the roof.”

“I saw that,” volunteered Savesto. “I wondered what the poor soul had done.”

“Nothing more than speak when the Premer preferred silence,” Aki replied. “There is no way that I am going back inside the temple and ask for authorization to use a horse.”

“But the reinforcements won’t make it in time if you walk,” frowned one of the soldiers.

“I know,” Aki nodded in defeat, “but what can I do?”

“You can steal a horse,” declared Savesto.

“And get executed?” balked Aki.

“You won’t get executed,” smiled Savesto. “We will help you. We know some of the boys that work the corrals. We can distract them while you get the horse and ride out.”

“Are you sure about this Savesto?” one of the soldiers asked nervously.

“If we don’t get reinforcements,” stated Savesto, “there is a decent chance that we will die in the coming battle. I’ve got a fair bit of gold with me that I am willing to give up to stay alive. What about the rest of you?”

“Gold is no good to a dead man,” shrugged one of the soldiers. “Count me in. How do you plan to do it?”

“Everyone knows that I am a unlucky person,” grinned Savesto. “One of you will happen to go down to the corrals and mention that I have a lot of gold and that I am gambling it away. That should draw most of the guards away.”

“What about the rest?” asked Aki. “Surely some of the guards will stay there.”

“The rest of my boys will hang around the corrals,” answered Savesto. “They will offer to take the guards’ places so the guards can come and take my gold. If necessary, they will start a fight with the guards to distract them while you steal the horse.”

Aki pulled a knife and cut his pouch free. He handed it to Savesto, and the Motangan whistled at the weight of it. Other soldiers handed over their gold and soon Savesto had quite a large pile.

“Let’s do it,” Aki said confidently.

One of Savesto’s soldiers ran ahead as the others walked slowly towards the corrals. Before the group reached the corrals, a soldier who had been running towards them halted in front of them.

“Is it true?” he asked the soldiers. “Is Savesto gambling all of his gold away?”

“He is,” nodded one of the soldiers. “I would love to take some of it from him, but I don’t have a stake to get in the game. Perhaps you could lend me some gold?”

The guard laughed loudly and took off running towards Savesto’s campsite.

“I guess that was a no,” chuckled the soldier.

Several more guards raced by, and by the time the small group reached the corrals, there were only two guards left.

“Well,” greeted one of the guards, “if it isn’t Savesto’s boys. I knew the rumor of him losing his gold was too good to be true. You boys wouldn’t be away from your campsite if there was gold to be had.”

“Actually,” admitted one of the soldiers, “Savesto has cleaned us out. He is now sitting on all of our gold as well as his own.”

“I have never known Savesto to be lucky,” the guard replied suspiciously.

“Me neither,” shrugged the soldier, “but it’s the truth. He cleaned us all out.”

“He must be cheating,” declared the soldier.

“No doubt about it,” nodded one of the soldiers, “but we couldn’t catch him at it.”

The two guards looked at each other and grinned.

“Well he can’t cheat us,” declared one of the guards. “I can spot a cheat every time. How would you boys like to earn some of your gold back?”

“”Sure!” exclaimed one of Savesto’s soldiers. “What do we have to do?”

“Just guard the corrals while we go clean out Savesto’s little nest egg,” grinned the guard. “We’ll let you have some of your gold back when we return.”

“And we better hurry before the others get it all,” interjected the other guard.

“Go,” one of the soldiers said. “Just make sure you get some of our gold back.”

The two guards ran towards Savesto’s campsite, and the soldiers left behind laughed out loud.

“Take your pick, Aki,” chuckled one of the soldiers, “but be quick about it. Savesto’s luck truly is lousy, and it won’t take long for them to clean him out.”

Aki did not hesitate. He leaped over the rail of the corral while the soldiers untied the gate and prepared to open it. Within minutes Aki had a horse saddled and raced out of the corral. The sentries along the eastern perimeter paid no attention to the racing messenger, and Fisher was soon out of sight of the camp.

Marshal Berman gazed to his left and observed the long line of Khadoran horsemen. A rainbow of uniforms extended far beyond the limitations of his eyesight. He nodded with pride and swiveled his head to the right. A mirror image presented itself; only the clan colors were different. Next he glanced over his shoulder at the horde of the Aritor clan, which was slightly in front of the rest of the line. The morning sun was just breaking the horizon, and the Vandegar Temple was visible far in the distance. As the first rays of the sun swept over the vast plain, the ground sparkled with a thousand pinpricks of reflected light.

“What the devil is that?” asked Lord Faliman. “Something is reflecting the light.”

Lord Marshal Stanton rose up in his stirrups and gazed over the wasteland. For several moments his eyes tried to decipher what lay before him. Finally he nodded to himself and sat down with a sigh of relief.

“It is an old battlefield,” he announced. “Thousands must have died here ages ago.”

“Ages ago?” questioned the Aritor lord. “What do you see?”

“Nothing but a bunch of fallen skeletons on the ground,” answered Lord Marshal Stanton. “The sun is reflecting off of their old swords.”

“I do not recall hearing about any old battles here,” frowned Lord Faliman.

“This used to be the home of the Jiadin warriors,” explained Lord Marshal Stanton. “The temple at Vandegar was the center of their war of destruction. One can assume that many battles took place in this wasteland.”

The vanguard had reached the edge of the ancient battlefield, and the Aritor clan rode onward, the hooves of the horses making a loud racket as they trampled the long deceased warriors and bones snapped beneath the weight.

“Why are the swords still shiny?” Marshal Berman muttered aloud.

“Not much rusts in the desert,” shrugged Lord Marshal Stanton, “but the glare is blinding.”

Marshal Berman grew increasingly nervous as the Aritor clan moved further into the old battlefield. He rose up and turned to look behind him. The entire group of Aritor horsemen was riding over the skeletons, and the main line of the other Khadora clans was about to begin crunching bones as well. As he turned forward once again, his brow began sweating profusely, although the heat of the day had not yet begun.