Richard Tuttle - Army of the Dead

The guard started to object, but the officer physically turned the guard around and shoved him towards the door.

Dark shadows flitted in the dim light as the elves stealthily entered the city of Teramar. Princess Alahara gazed skyward to approximate the time and nodded in approval.

“If everything is going this smoothly at Sudamar and Eldamar,” Tamar said softly, “all three cities will be taken without anyone else on the island knowing about it.”

“That is the goal,” Princess Alahara responded, “but let’s not get overly confident. It only takes one mage to get the word of this invasion to Vandamar.”

Calitora had been following the elven princess and had heard the short conversation. He nodded approvingly at Alahara’s caution as he turned away from the elves and sought shadows of his own. The Chula shaman moved on an erratic path through the sleeping city. His task was to find any stray Motangan soldiers and eliminate them. He moved swiftly, but silently through the alleyways of the city, looking for any late night pedestrians.

Calitora knew the elven plan of attack well, and he was not distracted by moving shadows far above him. He knew that elven archers would control the rooftops. Instead he focused on the streets and alleyways, his eyes scanning into the darkness looking for any signs of movement.

A large alley cat darted out of a dark corner, frightened by the human presence. Calitora smiled sympathetically as the cat dashed into another alley. The shaman zigzagged through the city, constantly closing in on the city’s center where the elves were climbing to the roof of the temple. He halted briefly outside a window when he heard a noise, but he moved on again when he determined that it was merely the sounds of a fitful sleeper.

Eventually he reached the area of the city that allowed him an unobstructed view of the front of the temple. Hidden in the shadows, Calitora peered out at the two sentries standing guard outside the front doors of the temple. The Motangans were relaxed, almost lethargic in their boring duty. Calitora was about to move onward, swinging wide around the temple in his continuing search for stray soldiers, when something caught his attention. His eyes were drawn upward to a small balcony on the second level of the temple. The balcony was on the side of the temple, and Calitora did not have a good view of it, but he was sure that he had detected movement there.

The Chula shaman swiftly backed away from the front of the temple and raced to a position where he could better observe the balcony. Hoping that the figure had been one of the elven attackers, Calitora maintained his stealth for fear of alarming the enemy. When he approached the temple from a different angle, the shaman could clearly see the black shape on the balcony. His heart raced as he saw the Motangan mage. The Motangan’s lips were moving, and Calitora knew that the secrecy of the invasion was lost. Somehow a mage had escaped Princess Alahara’s assassination squads, yet no alarm had been sounded. Calitora glanced back at the sentries in front of the temple and saw no cause for alarm. The Motangan mage was trying to hide from the assassins and still get a message off to Vandamar.

The Chula shaman could not attack the Motangan mage without alerting the sentries, at least not from his current position. There was a wide-open area between him and the temple. He could not cross the open area without being noticed. Making a spontaneous decision, Calitora transformed into a cat and raced towards the side of the temple. His mind worked feverously as he tried to figure out how he could transform into a human again and attack the mage without getting killed. The shaman knew he would be extremely vulnerable during, and immediately after, his transformation. That vulnerability could cost him his life.

The sentries at the front of the temple saw the cat racing across the open area. They noted it with disinterest, and Calitora made the safety of the side of the temple without incident. He continued running until he was directly under the balcony, the only safe place for him to transform. As Calitora was assuming a human shape, he heard a shout from above him. Having finished his report to Vandamar, the Motangan mage was shouting an alarm to rouse the soldiers of the city.

Berating himself for being too slow to act, Calitora leaped away from the side of the palace and sent a light blade streaking upward. He immediately followed the spell with another. The first light blade tore into the balcony holding the Motangan mage, shredding the supports of the balcony, and the building’s appendage began to crumble and fall. The second blade of light ripped through the railing and shredded the Motangan mage. Calitora dove and rolled away as the wreckage tumbled to the ground.

As the Chula shaman rolled to his feet, he heard hundreds of voices shouting from the nearby barracks compound. He turned and saw the Motangan soldiers streaming out of the barracks, their voices raised in alarm. He watched dispassionately as the elven archers slaughtered the Motangan soldiers. Putting the carnage out of his mind, Calitora raced to the front of the temple. Princess Alahara’s forces had already killed the two sentries, and the princess stood on the front steps staring at the battle raging near the barracks. Calitora halted in front of the princess.

“Word has already gotten out about the invasion,” Calitora reported. “There was a mage on the balcony of the temple. I am sure that he used an air tunnel before shouting an alarm. I could not silence him in time. I am sorry.”

“Do not be hard on yourself, Calitora,” the Princess Alahara smiled compassionately. “We noticed the empty bed during our search, but time was against us. I suspect that each city is supposed to have a mage available at all times to communicate with Vandamar. The loss is the Motangans’. Taking the city without unnecessary bloodshed would have been nice, but our goal is to conquer this island. We are doing that.”

“Let’s hope that King Avalar in Eldamar and Princess Alastasia in Sudamar were more successful than we were,” interjected Tamar.

“We will know soon,” replied the princess as she gazed upward at the night sky. “We are due to talk soon.”

“How can you do that?” frowned the shaman. “The air tunnel requires knowledge of a place before it can be used.”

“Not always,” smiled Princess Alahara. “Within the hour, we will communicate from the roofs of the three temples and make our plans for moving northward. Each of us will weave an air tunnel to Elvangar. Mages there will connect the three air tunnels and allow us to talk.”

“What trouble will the sounding of the alarm cause us?” asked Tamar.

“I am not sure,” frowned the princess. “The three southern cities only host three thousand men each. Vandamar is much more fortified. There are over thirty thousand Motangan soldiers in Vandamar, and the element of surprise will not be on our side. A great many elves may die to liberate this island.”

“Perhaps we should wait for the rest of our armies to arrive?” suggested Tamar. “Our ships should be returning home by now.”

“Those armies are bound elsewhere,” Princess Alahara shook her head. “It is up to us to free our people from this bondage.”

“They have ten times our numbers,” frowned Tamar. “While I would willingly pit elven archers against any foe, do not expect miracles from them.”

“I do expect miracles,” Princess Alahara smiled tautly, “and you will learn to believe in them, too. Let’s go to the roof of the temple and prepare to find out how the others have done.”

* * *

Lightning flashed incessantly across the sky, illuminating the huge voluminous clouds that were producing the torrent of rain pelting down on the Sakovan heartland. Great claps of thunder roared continuously, masking out all other sounds in the Motangan encampment. HawkShadow knelt not far from the sentries guarding the perimeter of the encampment. His hair was soaked and matted to his head. His clothes were as wet as if he were kneeling in a stream, but he ignored it all. He remained motionless, an arrow nocked, his eyes focused on an unseen sentry, waiting for the lightning to illuminate him once again.