Richard Tuttle - Army of the Dead

“The blue and green ones are falling from their horses,” the dragon continued. “They have turned around to flee, but there is nowhere for them to go.”

“Is Marshal Berman with them?” asked Marak.

“There is one in orange and yellow among them,” replied the dragon. “He fights valiantly, but his blows are wasted. The creatures do not fall down when struck.”

Emperor Marak turned his head to survey the rest of the area around the temple. He saw a large mass of red uniforms around the temple, but they were making no move to join the battle. Suddenly, swift movement caught his eye near the roof of the temple. He squinted into the rising sun and saw a large black shape leap off the roof. Its wings spread out, and it flapped hard as it headed straight towards Marak and Myka.

“We have a visitor coming,” the Torak said nervously. “I think it might be a demon.”

Flames shot out of the dragon’s mouth as her head turned towards the temple.

“Barrok,” spat the dragon. “Use your knife, Torak. This will be the type of ride you never wished for.”

“Perhaps you should put me down?” questioned the Torak. “I do not want to hinder your fighting.”

“I wish there was time to do just that,” replied Myka, “but there is not. I cannot afford to let the demon get above me. I would also lose too much speed by letting you off. Use your knife and hang on.”

Emperor Marak shoved his knife into the scale of the dragon. He wedged it in strong and gripped it with both hands. As Myka turned to face the approaching demon, Marak’s eyes returned to the battle below. They had covered enough ground so that Marak was now able to see clearly. What he saw was disturbing.

The Khadoran Emperor watched as Marshal Berman fell to the ground, his body cut and bleeding. The hornsman was the next to go, but the most interesting sight was that of Lord Marshal Stanton breaking the neck of one of the skeletons. The creature immediately crumpled into a pile of bones and did not get up again. He also saw Lord Faliman sliced open and realized that none of the vanguard would live. He hastily wove an air tunnel to the Khadoran mages behind the line of horsemen.

“You need to hang onto your knife,” warned the dragon. “I will not be able to stop you from falling.”

“In a minute,” replied the Torak.

An air mage picked up his air tunnel, and the Torak wasted no words.

“Tell Lord Marshal Yenga to assume command of the army,” ordered the Emperor. “Tell everyone that the creatures need to be decapitated. Order the cavalry to fall back and use the mages to blast the skeletons in any way they can to aid in the retreat.”

“Retreat?” asked the air mage.

“Yes,” snapped the Torak. “Get our people away from the skeletons. Notify King Avalar about everything I have said and try to contact the Fakarans.”

“Using air tunnels?” questioned the mage.

“The time for secrecy is over,” replied the Torak. “Vand knows that we have arrived. Our forces need to coordinate.”

“The knife, Torak!” shouted Myka. “Now!”

Marak dropped the air tunnel and quickly grabbed the knife. He looked up to see the grotesque creature streaking towards them. Its fangs were bared and long, sharp talons were stretched out before it. The two powerful creatures were on a collision course at a speed that the Torak could only imagine. He gripped the knife firmly with both hands and waited for the crash that was to come.

Suddenly, Myka rolled to one side, her claws reaching out to rake the side of the passing demon. Marak gripped the knife harder than he had ever gripped anything in his life, and his legs tried to press against the sides of the dragon to avoid being sent to his death below. The demon screamed as it passed, and one of its wings came perilously close to Marak.

“First blood,” Myka said with satisfaction as she leveled out and swept into a sharp bank to the left.

Marak felt his body tossed about like the ear of a romping dog. He gripped the knife anew and adjusted his legs as the dragon straightened and headed towards the distant demon that had also turned around. Once again the two huge creatures raced towards one another, and once again it appeared that a collision was imminent.

Unexpectedly, the demon’s wings flared out to each side and the demon dropped rapidly. Myka screamed as she flew over the demon, as Barrok gashed her underside with its sharp claws. The dragon did not turn as quickly as the last time, but sped on straight for some time. Marak turned his head and saw the demon approaching from behind.

“It’s coming up behind you,” warned the Torak.

“I know,” answered the dragon. “You must hang on tightly just before Barrok reaches me. You will be jarred abruptly.”

Marak kept watching the approaching demon until it was too close to see without letting go of the knife. Unexpectedly, Myka’s entire body thrashed as her powerful tail whipped full out and smashed the demon in the face. The demon reacted as if it had run into a wall. Its wings flapped furiously and Barrok dropped a hundred paces in altitude. Myka had already begun her dive and spiraled around to attack the demon before it recovered. Her claws dug into the demon’s face, but Barrok was not defeated yet. The demon spun its body, and its talons tore into Myka’s left wing. The dragon broke off, large tears shredding a section of her wing. She immediately rose higher in the sky to put distance between the demon and herself.

“Can you win this fight?” asked the Torak. “This demon seems to be a formidable foe.”

“I must,” replied Myka. “This is only the first of six, and those six are the survivors of the last battle. They are all skilled and deadly. Thankfully they are attacking one at a time, or I would have no chance at all. Hold on tight, Torak, we are going in for the kill this time.”

Marak was not sure if Myka could kill the demon. The lacerations in her wing surely had to affect her ability to maneuver quickly, and the Torak could see no weakness in the demon.

Myka wobbled as she flew, and the demon cackled as it circled. On one pass the demon spit at Myka, and a large glob of acidic spittle landed near Marak. The glob smoked as it started to eat through one of Myka’s scales. Marak’s hand darted to his pack to retrieve a piece of cloth to blot the sputum, but Myka spoke sharply.

“Mind your knife, Torak,” ordered the dragon.

“Wise, Myka,” cackled Barrok. “There is no need to worry about scales when you both shall be dead soon.”

Marak’s hands immediately gripped the knife tightly. The demon darted inward towards Myka’s injured wing from the rear. Myka suddenly folded her wings inward and began to drop precipitously. The demon shouted in surprise and streaked after the falling dragon. The Torak’s body lifted off the dragon’s back, and he remained affixed only by his hands holding the knife. Without warning, Myka’s wings suddenly flared outward, and Marak’s body slammed into the dragon’s scales. The demon had been tricked into believing that Myka was heading for the ground. As the demon instantly caught up to the dragon, Myka twisted in the air and snapped her jaws tight on Barrok’s throat. The demon gagged and flailed as it tried to break free, but the dragon increased the pressure as her teeth sunk ever deeper. Acidic, black blood seeped out of the demon’s neck and flowed along its body. With a loud snap, the demon’s head lolled to one side. Myka flipped her head and discarded the creature’s body. Marak watched the demon’s carcass fall to the ground.

“You did it!” exclaimed the Torak.

“This is no time for congratulations,” sighed Myka. “Agad and Caliphia are coming out to play.”

The Torak glanced towards the temple and saw two distant black shapes winging away from the building’s roof.