Richard Tuttle - Army of the Dead

“Slower, Myka,” Lyra demanded.

The dragon’s wings began to beat faster, but her forward motion slowed.

“That is as slow as I can go without tossing you two about,” declared Myka. “We are practically at a walk.”

Lyra did not respond as she continued to concentrate on the fissure. The crack that Lyra created was barely large enough for one to stick the tips of their fingers in. When Myka reached the northernmost limit, she banked sharply and reversed course. Lyra concentrated on enlarging the fissure, both in width and depth.

“This is going better than I would have thought possible,” Lyra said softly. “The layers are most willing to be separated.”

“They have remained in their unnatural position for a long time,” smiled Marak as he watched the fissure widen.

After the second pass, the fissure was large enough to put your arm into. Marak could not see how deep it went. As Myka started the third pass, small chunks of stone tumbled from the Wall to the city below. Although the land directly below the Wall was mostly farmland and outside the limits of the city proper, shouts arose from the Motangans before the third pass was complete.

“We have been noticed,” announced Myka. “Soon the whole city will be gazing up at us.”

“I am almost done,” replied Lyra. “At the end of this pass, take us higher and more inland. That will keep the Motangan mages from being able to target us.”

Marak stared down at the crevice, which was now large enough for a person to slip into. He looked down at the city of Duran and saw thousands of people running around and pointing upward. Fireballs flew upwards, but they could not reach the dragon. Unexpectedly, lightning flashed out of the clear sky. The lightning bolt missed the trio, but it was close enough to make Marak’s skin tingle.

“Take us up and inland,” shouted Lyra as they reached the end of the third run.

Myka instantly obeyed as she banked sharply and climbed powerfully. More lightning flashes lit the morning sky, but they were not close enough to cause any harm.

“What now?” asked Marak as the dragon soared over the Sakova so far inland that Duran was no longer visible.

“We have to make one more run,” declared the Star of Sakova. “There will be a short change of plans, though. Marak, I want you to concentrate on the less powerful force bolts. Just widen the fissure for me. I will sit backwards and follow your force bolts with my own. Mine will be more powerful and deeper. Myka, I am going to want you to fly much faster this trip. Gauge your speed on how quickly Marak can throw his force bolts. He must toss one every hundred paces, but the faster we do this the better. Once, my force bolts hit the bottom of the crevice, the wall will start to fall. It is best if it all goes down together.”

“How quickly can you perform your magic, Torak?” quipped the dragon.

“How quickly can you fly, dragon?” retorted the Torak. “I am skilled with both hands. If I only need one every hundred paces, a fast gallop would not be too fast.”

“Fortunately,” snorted the dragon as it landed in a clearing in the Sakova, “I am not a horse. Arrange your bodies as you want them. Let me know when to start this final run.”

Marak unwrapped his arms, and Lyra slid past him. She turned around and sat facing the dragon’s tail.

“You will feel me falling,” frowned Lyra, “won’t you?”

“You have never had a safer seat,” chuckled the dragon. “Are you ready?”

Lyra said that she was ready and the dragon leaped into the air. Lyra instinctively placed her hands on the dragon’s scales and heard Myka laugh. The dragon banked slowly in a long low flight far to the south of Duran. When she reached the Wall of Mermidion, she turned to the north and skimmed the surface of the cliff.

“Here it comes,” announced the dragon. “I will go slightly higher and bank to one side so that you can use both hands. If I am going too fast, shout quickly.”

The dragon suddenly shot up a hundred paces and banked steeply to one side. Marak saw the fissure coming and readied himself for the attack. He started throwing force bolts as quickly as he could. Lyra could only see the crevice after they had passed over it. She directed her force bolts deep into the yawning fissure.

“Faster!” Lyra shouted as she saw the vertical rock layer begin to sway.

Lightning bolts flashed in the sky again, and the Motangans in Duran began to shout hysterically. Thousands of men raced to the waterfront as the Wall of Mermidion began to waver. Unfortunately for the Motangans, there were no ships in port to swim out to.

Myka suddenly leveled out of her bank and soared upward, her tail coming forward to secure Lyra. Lightning crackled throughout the sky as the Motangan mages attempted to extract revenge for their coming defeat, but they could not anticipate the dragon’s moves as Myka zigzagged across the sky. Myka leveled out at a high altitude as the lightning ceased. Marak looked back at Duran and wondered if they had failed. The Wall of Mermidion still stood over the city of Duran, although the Motangans continued to run around hysterically.

Then it happened. The Wall wobbled like a man unsteady from too much drink. As Marak watched, one end of the Wall leaned slowly outward to hang precariously over the city. The rest of the Wall followed, and suddenly the entire layer of rock fell outward as if pushed by a mighty hand. Millions of tons of rock slammed down on the city of Duran, and well into the sea beyond it. The air thundered in a tremendous reverberating clap as the ground shook for hundreds of leagues around. A huge cloud of brown dust rose skyward, blotting out the sun and casting the ancient city into a veil of darkness.

The dragon moved deftly to avoid the brown column of dust as she dropped altitude and circled back towards the city. Marak peered through the dimness to gaze upon the results of the mission.

“You would never believe that a city had once existed there,” Lyra said softly. “I feel sad that it has come to destroying our own cities to protect our people.”

“There is only one person alive who is from Duran,” replied Marak, “and I do not think he would disapprove. At least his kinsmen are now properly buried.”

“Along with thousands of Motangans,” added the dragon. “I must get out of this foul air.”

“Take us home,” Lyra said to the dragon, “but land somewhere first so I will not be forced to view your tail for the entire journey.”

* * *

The Motangan soldier saw the officer approaching the campfire. He grabbed a spare mug and poured some hot coffee into it. He walked a few paces towards the approaching officer and handed him the mug.

“This wasteland chills you at night,” smiled the soldier.

“No one said Fakara would be a paradise,” chuckled the officer. “Are you on sentry duty?”

“No,” the soldier shook his head. “I took my turn hours ago. I just couldn’t get back to sleep.”

“Well, there will be no time for you to catch up on your sleep now,” the officer said as he sipped the coffee and gazed up at the sky. “Dawn will be here soon.”

“I prefer the daylight,” shrugged the soldier. “We never had such dark nights on Motanga.”

“That’s because there isn’t a living sole for leagues around us,” replied the officer. “The nearest torch is probably back in Meliban. The campfires give off enough light to navigate the campsite.”

“I have no problem finding my way around the camp,” offered the soldier. “It is beyond our camp that I want to see.”

The officer turned and frowned at the soldier. “I do not tolerate cowards in my command,” snapped the officer. “You had better adjust your attitude.”