Richard Tuttle - Army of the Dead

“Only the power of Kaltara could account for what Lyra did in the Sakova,” the Astor continued.

“Will it work?” asked HawkShadow.

“Have you ever known Kaltara to fail?” the Astor grinned in response.

Several hours passed before the first mages began to falter from exhaustion. King Avalar immediately gathered replacement mages and began to make substitutions. It was shortly after the new mages had begun their healing that Myka’s eye sprang open. A communal gasp rose from the crowd as the dragon’s eye flicked back and forth, as if trying to determine where she was. Myka’s eye landed on Lyra and Marak, and a giant tear rolled down the dragon’s face and splattered on the two Kaltara servants when it struck the ground. Lyra and Marak opened their eyes and rose to their feet. The other mages backed slowly away, and the golden aura winked out of sight.

“How do you feel?” asked the Star of Sakova.

Smoke billowed out of the dragon’s nostrils, and her mouth opened wide to show long rows of sharp, giant teeth. Her tongue flicked out and gently pushed the Torak on the chest.

“Why did you jump?” Myka asked.

“I thought you would fight better without me,” admitted Marak. “I am sorry for leaving you. I will never cause you tears again. I promise.”

“What?” quipped the dragon. “Do not presume that tear was for the two of you saving my life. I just have a problem with my eye. In fact,” she grinned, “I think I may have human fingerprints on my eyelid. That must have been the problem.”

“It is good to have you back again,” grinned Marak. “How do you feel? Is everything working as it should?”

“She needs time,” interrupted Lyra.

The winged warrior looked around carefully before rising to her feet. The mages quickly moved back further as the giant dragon flexed her muscles.

“I have never felt better,” Myka declared. “I guess it helps having hundreds of personal healers. I owe all of you a debt of gratitude.”

“You owe us nothing,” smiled Lyra. “You are Kaltara’s gift to us. It is our duty to do what we can to keep you safe. Are you sure that everything is working well?”

Myka turned around in the clearing and belched long fingers of flame along the path of destruction.

“If everyone will give me some room,” answered Myka, “I will go aloft and find out.”

The mages scattered, taking shelter well away from the trail of broken trees. Lyra frowned and started to object, but Marak smiled and placed his hand on her shoulder.

“Let her do what she was born to do,” he said softly. “We must be sure that she is fit for battle.”

The dragon leaped into the air and soared into the sky. Marak raced for the edge of the forest as he kept his eyes skyward to observe the dragon in flight. He lost sight of her for a short time, but when he reached the plain he saw the dragon doing aerobatics above him. Myka noticed the lone figure below and swooped down on him. Flames preceded her arrival, and Marak felt their warmth. He knew that Myka wanted him to feel threatened, but he held his ground. He knew that Myka would never hurt him. The dragon landed gently in front of him.

“You did not even flinch,” Myka said with disappointment.

“I know you too well,” smiled the Torak.

“Not as well as you think you do,” retorted the dragon. “There is no need for you to feel as though you have failed me. Your jumping probably saved both of our lives, but I will not let you ride me again until the other three demons are defeated. I was wrong to endanger the Torak. I should have refused to take you up in the first place.”

“That is where you are wrong,” countered the Torak. “I am meant to use what Kaltara has offered me, and that includes you. You are my winged warrior.”

“Not while demons live and breath,” the dragon shook her massive head. “There are three of them left, and I will defeat them all.”

“We will defeat them all,” grinned the Torak. “We are a team.”

“We have been through this already,” replied Myka. “Your magic is useless against them.”

“That may be,” countered Marak, “but the Sword of Torak is not. You see,” he added, “I should have used it instead of jumping clear. Together we could have killed them without both of us nearly dying.”

“Your sword?” questioned the dragon. “You presume a great deal.”

“I presume nothing,” asserted Marak, “and it is not my sword. It is Kaltara’s sword. I tested it on the carcass of the last demon you killed. Lyra’s rapier works as well. Both sliced through the flesh of the carcass.”

“Amazing,” the stunned dragon said. “And together we failed to realize this?”

“Kaltara never said we were smart,” grinned the Torak.

The dragon bellowed with laughter and people gathered at the edge of the forest to see what was happening. Myka looked past Marak and saw the hundreds of faces watching with curiosity.

“How long have I postponed the battle?” she asked.

“Only a day,” answered Marak. “The good part about that is that Vand will think you are dead.”

“Not for long,” snarled Myka. “I still have work to do.”

“You do indeed,” nodded the Torak, “but not just yet. As soon as you show up, those three demons will come straight for you. Why not wait until Vand tries to use them for another task and take them by surprise?”

“I like surprises,” murmured the dragon, “but what difference will it make how we meet them? Why not circle the temple and dare them to come out and play?”

“Two demons nearly killed you,” answered Marak. “Why face three at once unless you have to?”

“Maybe they will come out one at a time,” posed the dragon.

“Possibly,” admitted Marak, “but that did not happen yesterday. I think Vand might have observed what happened to Barrok and made the other two join against you. If he finds out that you are alive, he will surely send all three at once. He will not allow their pride to interfere.”

“Alright,” conceded Myka. “How do you plan to separate them?”

“By giving him another reason to use the creatures,” answered the Khadoran Emperor. “You should rest here the remainder of the day while I send everyone else to their places. After they are gone, I will explain the plan to you.”

“That will give me time to find something to eat,” agreed the dragon. “I am famished.”

* * *

After the sun went down that night Rejji ordered the Fakaran horsemen to new locations. They were ordered not to light any new campfires, but they were not told the reason why. The free tribes were split in two with a large gap between their forces. The Jiadin were moved further to the south leaving another large gap in the eastern lines. Unseen by the Fakaran horsemen, or their horses, were four long columns of dark creatures moving slowly towards the Motangan defensive lines. Two columns of tyriks moved around the ends of the Fakarans. When they had crossed the desolate no man’s land, the tyriks began spinning their webs.

While the giant spiders were creating their fence around the skeletons, two more columns of tyriks passed through the two new gaps in the Fakaran lines. The new columns were meant to separate the skeleton creatures from the hellsoul warriors and the temple, leaving the entire skeleton army divided into two totally enclosed areas from which they could not escape.

While the outermost columns of tyriks proceeded unnoticed by anyone, the inner columns had to carve a path through the skeletons. The dead creatures swarmed to interdict the giant spiders, but their swords were useless. The tyriks batted the skeletons aside and spun webs to contain them. The skeletons could not cry out in alarm, but the tyriks eventually ran into Tzargo’s hellsouls. At first only the Motangan sentries noticed the large black shapes moving between them and the skeleton army. The tyriks quickly immobilized the sentries by injecting them with poison and then wrapping them in small webs and leaving them behind, but their stealth could not be maintained forever.