Richard Tuttle - Army of the Dead

“Premer Cardijja,” greeted Lady Mystic. “It has been a long time since you were in Vandamar.”

The two men halted and turned to face Vand’s daughter.

“And Premer Shamal as well,” smiled Lady Mystic. “Good morning. You must have been in to see my father. Did he give you another award, or did he slap your wrists?”

“Greetings, Lady Mystic,” frowned Premer Shamal. “You know that we are not allowed to discuss what goes on in the throne room. Besides, you no longer enjoy the pleasure of the Emperor. We really should not be seen with you.”

“Tsk, tsk,” smiled Lady Mystic. “Your manners could use some improvement, Shamal. You are correct about my removal from the temple, but you forget that I am Vand’s daughter. A father’s ire does not last forever. Are you really so anxious for me to list you as one of those who was rude to me when I was temporarily in disfavor?”

“I do not think that was what Premer Shamal was inferring,” Premer Cardijja quickly came to his friend’s defense. “You know that appearances in Vandamar are always important. While your disfavor might be temporary, the Emperor would frown upon our friendliness to you at this time.”

“I do understand,” smiled Lady Mystic. “It is a game that we all must play at one time or another. I will admit that it is punishing to be outcast as I have been. I think I have learned my lesson well these past few weeks. I shall never make my father angry again, and I understand your caution as well. I will just walk with you to the docks to await your ships. That will not be sufficient to activate my father’s rage.”

The premers nodded glumly and allowed Lady Mystic to walk with them. There was little to be gained by ostracizing her when she might well stand alongside Vand once again.

“This is an exciting time to be alive,” Lady Mystic said cheerily to Cardijja. “We are finally taking the war to the infidels. I would love to be on one of those ships, but father fears for my safety. As if I couldn’t take care of myself,” she added with a chuckle.

“You would make a fine addition to the mages,” smiled Premer Cardijja, “but you would have more fun with Shamal’s armies. I am afraid there will be little of interest for mages in Fakara. The savages have abandoned all of the cities. There is nothing but dusty plains left.”

“That does sound boring,” frowned Lady Mystic. “That is not my idea of a fun war. I envision more of a ruthless battle against enemy mages, where the might and power of the Motangans sends the enemies running in fear.”

“You do have quite an imagination,” chuckled Premer Shamal. “Seriously though, reports talk a lot about Khadora’s newfound use of mages. I am slightly concerned about what might be waiting for us there. The Chula are one mystery that we have been unable to get any information on. They are cause for concern.”

“Perhaps the Chula will not align with the Khadorans,” shrugged Lady Mystic.

“Perhaps,” agreed Shamal, “but I must plan as if they will. Maybe Clarvoy will find out on his trip to Khadoratung. I have asked specifically for information about the defenses that I will run into. Without that knowledge, we are going to be fighting blind, and that is not the way to fight a war.”

“Clarvoy will discover their secrets,” Lady Mystic assured the premers. “There is no one finer at his craft in the entire world. Perhaps I will come to Sudamar next week for a visit, Shamal. I would like to talk to your mages about being included in the invasion. Their recommendation along with yours would do a lot to influence my father. I would like to fight in Khadora.”

Premer Shamal stopped walking and turned to face Lady Mystic. He frowned and shook his head.

“I do not wish to be rude, Lady Mystic,” the premer from Sudamar said, “but I have probably already revealed more than I should have. Were you not the Emperor’s daughter, I would fear that I had made a treasonous mistake. Do not bother to come to Sudamar. There will be no time to impress my mages with your talents. Stay here and earn your way back into your father’s grace.”

Premer Shamal turned abruptly and walked off. Lady Mystic’s mouth opened wide in a feigned display of shock at the treatment afforded her by Shamal.

“Do not take it personally,” Premer Cardijja said consolingly. “Shamal is under a great deal of pressure, as we all are. The fact is, our fleets will be long gone by next week. If you truly wanted to fight, you should have made your case some time ago. Our ships will be loaded tonight. Forgive Shamal for his rudeness.”

“I shall,” smiled Lady Mystic. “I know that you two are good friends, and I would not want anything disparaging said about either of you. You have both served my father well. Good luck on your voyage to Fakara. I hope Vand has given you the tools required to assure victory.”

“Three hundred thousand of them,” grinned Cardijja. “Fakara will be ours within the week.”

Lady Mystic waved as the premer walked towards the ship that would return him to Eldamar. As soon as he was onboard, she turned and hurried to the jungle clearing.

* * *

General Manitow stood on the roof of the Imperial Guard headquarters in Alamar. He gazed down at the ruined city and shook his head. The harbor was full of sunken ships and floating bodies. The beach was stained with blood, and the first two blocks of buildings were totally leveled to smoking piles of rubble. The Motangan soldiers were streaming onto the shore, abandoning their hundreds of small boats to float upon the water like flotsam.

There was fighting in every sector of the city, including around the Imperial Guard headquarters, and yet the Motangan catapults still rained fire upon the city. Alamar was officially lost.

“Get me updates on General Addley and General Romero,” Manitow snapped to his mages, “and prepare to sound the alarm to retreat.”

“General Addley reports inflicting heavy casualties on the Motangans,” answered one of the mages, “but he seeks permission to withdraw. The battle will soon be a test of numbers, and that is one that he cannot win.”

“General Romero is already retreating,” declared another mage. “He said that the Motangans landed before his men were in position.”

General Manitow cursed under his breath. “Tell Addley to withdraw,” he snapped, “and sound our own retreat. We cannot stand any longer with a flank exposed. It is time to leave Alamar to the victors.”

General Manitow gazed once more at the harbor as he waited for the mages to prepare to leave. Some of the empty ships that had been using their catapults to pound the city were moving out of the harbor to make way for ships filled with troops. Suddenly, a catapult load smashed into the roof of the building. The general and the mages were thrown to the floor of the roof as a whole section of the building collapsed. The general rose and surveyed the damage.

“You have to leave now,” shouted SilverEdge as he appeared on the roof. “We cannot hold this building any longer. There are just too many of them.”

SilverEdge was a huge Sakovan from StarCity. No one matched him in size or strength except for Goral, who was even larger and stronger. General Manitow nodded as he helped the mages to their feet.

“Head out the back,” shouted SilverEdge. “We will delay the Motangans out front for as long as we can, but I urge you to hurry.”

SilverEdge did not wait for a reply. He raced down the steps and out the front door. In the street in front of the Imperial Guard headquarters, a small band of Sakovans were battling the Motangans, buying time for the mages and the general to escape. Two streets intersected in front of the building, creating three possible approaches that had to be protected. HawkShadow and SkyDancer blocked the street to the north, while StormSong and DarkBlade blocked the south. Goral stood alone facing east, and SilverEdge rushed to join him.