Richard Tuttle - Army of the Dead

“We thought we weren’t,” replied King Avalar, “but you have more friends than anyone I know. Fakaran horsemen are charging into the skeletons between here and the forest to the south. I have archers trying to open a corridor from the forest northward. We will have to fight our way out, but at least we have a fighting chance now.”

“Then let us fight,” the Torak said loudly as he broke Lyra’s embrace and accepted a choka from StarWind.

Marak felt ten pounds heavier with his wet clothes, but the choka did not seem to mind. He urged the warbird through the center of the elven-bearing cheetahs and prepared to take the point of the return trip to the forest. Goral, HawkShadow, and StormSong edged in front of him.

“This is not a Khadoran mission,” grinned Goral. “We will ride point this trip. You get the leftovers.”

The Torak nodded good-naturedly, and Goral started the push forward. The Sakovans had no momentum as they had had on the dash to the lake, and getting started was rough. The column inched forward and casualties began to mount as Sakovan warriors fell to the ground and their chokas tried to continue fighting.

“Archers concentrate forward,” shouted King Avalar. “We need to pick up the pace.”

The elven archers instantly obeyed and hundreds of arrows streaked past Goral. By the third volley, Goral was able to get some speed out of his choka, and the column began moving at a decent pace. The elven archers continued to concentrate on the masses before the column at the expense of the flanks. This allowed the column to gain speed, but the flanks were being destroyed. Emperor Marak saw a hole in the flank and quickly moved to fill it. He drew the Sword of Torak and began slashing into the skeletons as quickly as he could.

Once the column was moving swiftly, the elven archers returned their attention to the flanks, and the Sakovan losses ended. Before they were a third of the way to the forest, Jiadin riders surrounded the entire column. Half way to the forest, two long lines of elven archers created a safe corridor for the column to pass through. The Jiadin enveloped the lines of elven archers allowing them to join the column and return to the forest. By the time they were three-fourths of the way to the forest, the skeletons gave up the chase. Everyone moved into the shade of the forest and began to take stock of their losses.

Lyra rushed over to Marak as soon as they were safely beneath the trees. She hugged him tightly and kissed him.

“You had me worried,” she said softly. “Don’t ever do that again.”

“I won’t,” promised Marak. “I doubt that Myka will ever let me ride her again. I was a hindrance to her fighting. Where is she?” he asked as he tried to peer through the canopy.

“She died,” Lyra said cautiously. “She went down with the third demon.”

Lyra could feel Marak’s body grow suddenly rigid. His expression turned cold with hatred, and he broke the embrace. Without a word, the Torak turned and marched out of the forest. Lyra ran after him, afraid that he was going to do something foolish, but she halted at the edge of the trees when she saw that he was not storming off. The Torak was on his knees with his head bowed to the soil. His fists were clenched in tight balls, and the Star of Sakova knew that what was dripping onto the parched soil was not water from the Torak’s clothes, but tears for his lost winged warrior.

The mood in the forest south of Lake Jabul was somber. Mages tended to the wounded, while unit leaders counted the number of fighters missing. The losses were great, especially among the Jiadin who had carved a wide path through the skeleton creatures. Warriors gathered in small clumps to discuss the fighting and tell of their narrow escapes from death, or to console those who had lost someone close. Lyra sat silently by the fire thinking of Marak, while StarWind, King Avalar, Princess Alastasia and Ukaro stood nearby discussing tactics. Harmagan, Jaker, and Niger approached the group to talk.

“You Jiadin did an excellent job out there,” complimented King Avalar. “I doubt we would have made it back to the forest without your help.”

“The fact that you were out of the forest speaks highly of your courage,” Harmagan returned the compliment. “How could the Jiadin not honor such devotion to the Torak?”

“Well spoken big brother,” smiled Scarab as he, Rejji, and Bakhai approached. “One would almost think you actually knew who the Torak was?”

“I do not understand what the term means,” Harmagan admitted sheepishly, “but I do understand this much about men. Any man that could garner such favor from so many people is an amazing man, and one worthy to be associated with. I know of him as Emperor Marak of Khadora, and what I heard of him causes awe and inspiration. Others speak of him as the Torak, as if he were a deity. Whatever he is called, I long to serve such a man.”

“He is not a deity,” explained King Avalar, “but he speaks to one. The Torak is an ancient name, and it stands for one who serves God, but he is not alone in this endeavor. The Star of Sakova and the Astor, who you call King Rejji, are partners. They are the Three that serve Kaltara. To serve one is to serve them all.”

Harmagan turned and stared at Rejji as if he had never seen him before.

“Is this true?” asked Harmagan. “Do you speak with God?”

“It is true,” nodded the Astor.

“Now I understand,” smiled Harmagan. “That is why Marak could ride the dragon as well as you, isn’t it?”

“Myka was an ancient creature of Kaltara’s will,” replied Rejji, “and yes, that is why she allowed him to ride upon her.”

“It all begins to make sense now,” the Jiadin leader nodded thoughtfully. “There is only one other question that has been bothering me.”

“And what is that?” asked Rejji.

“I saw the elves riding large cats across the battlefield,” Harmagan asked, “but I have not been able to find them in the forest. Where do you keep them?”

“You do not have to fear the cats,” Ukaro smiled, his eyes shining with humor and his mane swaying in laughter. “They will not harm you.”

“That is good to know,” Niger said nervously, “but just in case, where are they?”

“Around,” purred Ukaro. “They are all around us.”

Lyra suddenly stood and stared into the forest. Everyone noticed and followed her gaze to see Emperor Marak walking in from the plains. Lyra eased her way out of the crowd and went to greet him.

“I was wondering where he had gone,” commented Harmagan. “I must talk to him.”

Scarab’s hand shot out and rested on Harmagan’s chest.

“Not right now,” the Khadoran spy said softly. “Let him talk with Lyra. I will introduce you to him later.”

Harmagan looked at Scarab bewildered, but he nodded as he began to understand that there was something special between the Torak and the Star of Sakova.

Marak halted just inside the line of trees and let Lyra come to him. She walked up to him and silently embraced him. For several long moments, neither of them spoke. Finally, Marak kissed Lyra and held her in front of him at arm’s length.

“For two people supposedly guided by God,” Marak said softly, “we are not doing too well.”

“What do you mean?” asked Lyra.

“Did you try magic on the skeletons?” he asked.

“We were told that only a strike to the neck would kill them,” frowned Lyra. “Didn’t that come from you?”

“Not from me,” Marak shook his head. “I did not try magic on the ride from the lake because I thought you would be using it if it worked. I swung my sword like everyone else.”

“So I failed again?” Lyra sniffed, feeling rebuked at the very moment that she wanted to just hug Marak and feel the life inside him. “I was in a hurry to save your life.”