Richard Tuttle - Army of the Dead

“Destroyed?” frowned Lyra. “What are you thinking?”

“I am thinking that Kaltara works in mysterious ways,” grinned Marak. “Perhaps you were chased from the battlefield for a purpose. Come with me. We have some work to do.”

The Star of Sakova frowned with curiosity, but she followed Marak out of the temple. The Chula guards were surprised by their presence, but they were not disturbed. Marak led Lyra into the forest and along a narrow trail. Fifteen minutes later they emerged from the forest in a large clearing near a clear alpine lake. Curled up on the shore of the lake was a huge dragon. Myka raised her head lazily and watched the humans approach.

“I am running out of places to hide from you,” snorted the dragon. “At least you have brought your warrior woman with you this time. I guess I will have to be nice.”

“That should tax your small mind,” chuckled the Torak. “Get your lazy body off the ground. We have adventure to pursue.”

“Adventure?” Myka perked up. “You could have at least giving me some notice.”

“You would probably find a better solution to the problem and that would hurt my pride,” grinned the Torak. “Be glad that Lyra and I chose to include you in this adventure.”

“Because you need to fly somewhere no doubt,” taunted the dragon. “What is this adventure?”

“I will explain it while we fly somewhere,” replied Marak.

The dragon glided through the dawn sky, banking into a lazy spiral as she circled over the coastal city of Duran. Not many Motangans were awake and moving around, but thousands of tents dotted the city.

“There are more than a thousand Motangan soldiers here,” frowned Lyra, her arms wrapped lovingly around Marak as they sat on the back of the dragon.

“Easily,” agreed the Torak. “Vand is taking no chances of another attack on his supplies. If we even had the ships to attack, we would lose tens of thousands of men trying to retake the city. He is smart enough to understand that his armies must eat to fight.”

“There is no way that the three of us are going to attack Duran,” retorted Lyra. “That would not be adventure; it would be suicide.”

“Land on the Wall, Myka,” instructed the Torak.

The dragon broke out of the spiral and glided towards the Wall of Mermidion, a mammoth cliff that ran for hundreds of leagues and isolated the city of Duran from the rest of the Sakova. When Myka landed on the top of the Wall of Mermidion, Marak and Lyra slid off. The sun was just beginning to peek above the horizon and hundreds of Motangan soldiers began emerging from their tents.

“What exactly do you have in mind?” the Star of Sakova asked the Torak.

“If I remember your stories about the Scroll of Kaltara,” smiled Marak, “it states that the Wall of Mermidion was formed from the ground taken from the Wound of Kaltara.”

“You remember well,” nodded Lyra. “It was a demonstration of the power of Kaltara, and of His anger at the Sakovans for disobeying Him.”

“So the Wall of Mermidion was created by the hand of Kaltara?” asked Marak.

“Of course,” Lyra frowned as she wondered what Marak was alluding to.

“Then the Wall of Mermidion can once again be moved by the hand of Kaltara,” grinned Marak.

“You brought us here to pray?” puzzled Lyra. “We could have used the prayer chamber at Changragar. It is a holy place.”

“Prayer works wonders,” smiled Marak, “but that is not what I had in mind. You, Lyra, are the hand of Kaltara.”

Lyra’s eyes opened wide as she stared at the Torak. Her mouth opened to speak, but nothing came out.

“You are wiser than I gave you credit for, Torak,” chuckled the dragon. “This will indeed be an adventurous day.”

“You can’t be serious?” Lyra finally uttered. “Do you have any idea of the magnitude of power that you are requesting from me?”

“Do you have any appreciation for the powers bestowed upon you by Kaltara?” countered Marak with a grin.

“I value my powers greatly,” frowned Lyra, “but I don’t think such a thing is possible. I doubt that hundreds of mages could even accomplish it.”

“Kaltara has blessed you with more than just your magical powers,” declared the Torak. “He has also given you wisdom. Use your mind, Lyra. Look at the Wall upon which we stand and tell me what you see.”

“I see rock,” frowned Lyra, “massive amounts of rock. The cliffs are huge and towering.”

“Which consist of vertical strata,” hinted the Torak.

“As it should,” nodded Lyra. “It once sat at the bottom of the Wound of Kaltara.”

“The many layers of sediment compressed into rock layers over the ages have been lifted out of the Wound of Kaltara and stood upon their edges,” grinned the Torak. “Instead of layer upon layer of horizontal rock, we now have huge vertical slabs.

“And all I would have to do is separate a few layers of the strata,” the Star of Sakova nodded. “Gravity would do the rest. You are brilliant, Marak. Whole sections of the Wall of Mermidion could be sent tumbling down on Duran.”

“Could and should,” smiled Marak. “Let us bury forever the city that the Motangans have seized to further our destruction.”

“I will need your help,” Lyra said distractedly as she walked along one of the faults, staring at the small cracks in the surface that separated the various colored layers. “If we have any chance of making this happen, I will have to separate the layers along one of the faults slowly, or just the top section will crumble off.”

“Just tell me what you want me to do,” smiled Marak. “I am in your service.”

Lyra grinned and looked up at the Torak. “And I intend to keep you there,” she chuckled. “We will have to do this from above the Wall,” she continued seriously. “I think we can peel off the three outermost layers in one shot, but I will need to do it slowly. The deeper I go, the harder I will need to concentrate. Myka can guide me by flying along the section of the Wall that resides above Duran, and turning around when we reach the limits of the city. I will need you, Marak, to hold onto me tightly. I am not sure how I will feel when my power is drained. You will also have to decide when I have done enough.”

“Decide?” frowned Marak. “What do you mean?”

“I am only going to separate the layers a tiny amount,” explained Lyra, “otherwise the outer layer will just crumble a bit at a time. That would not suffice to destroy the entire city. In fact, it would probably alert the mages below of what we are up to. I have no idea what their powers are, and I do not want to find out today. When you feel that I have gone deep enough to cause the entire layer to fall at once, you need to direct force bolts into the crevice. Direct them as deep into the crevice as you can, and make them increasingly powerful as you go deeper.”

“So the first force bolts will only widen the crevice, but the more powerful ones will start the destruction down deeper?” asked Marak.

“Exactly,” nodded Lyra. “If the first ones are too powerful, you will blow off small chunks of the wall. That will not do what we want as the debris will merely fall to the bottom of the Wall. We need the whole wall to come down at once if we wish the destruction to reach the harbor.”

“I understand,” nodded Marak as he helped Lyra onto Myka’s back.

Marak scrambled up the dragon’s back and sat behind Lyra. He wrapped his arms tightly around her as Myka leaped into the air. The dragon climbed in altitude as she headed for a spot of the Wall where the limits of Duran ended. Myka banked sharply and turned around to make the first run over the selected section of the Wall of Mermidion. Marak watched with interest as Lyra concentrated and began casting her spell. Small stones popped into the air, and a loud cracking sound drifted up to them as a small fissure appeared in the Wall.