Richard Tuttle - Army of the Dead

“I didn’t think our flag of truce would be very welcome just yet,” HawkShadow said under his breathe. “They have not been sufficiently terrorized. I have learned to gauge such things rather well.”

“I have no doubt about that,” replied the spymaster, “but we will follow Lyra’s orders. She wants a truce, and we will get one, no matter what it takes.”

“Oh,” grinned HawkShadow, “we will have one before the day is out. Count on it. Look. A black cloak has managed to survive.”

StarWind gazed into the Motangan encampment and saw a mage and a general conversing behind the line of archers. Her lips curled with hatred as she watched the two men.

“His name is Zatho,” spat StarWind. “He is the one who captured me. His heart is dark, and I would love to liberate it from his body.”

“I would assume that is true of all Motangan mages,” shrugged HawkShadow.

“I have no way of knowing that,” replied StarWind, “but Zatho seems to delight in torture. I am sure that he was extremely disappointed to find me missing from the encampment.”

“They are waving us forward,” HawkShadow said. “I am not sure that we can trust them.”

“I will not trust Zatho,” declared StarWind as she raised her hand and waved for the Motangans to come outside the perimeter of the camp. “This meeting will be on neutral ground or not at all.”

The stalemate lasted for over ten minutes, as each side tried to get the other to come forward. Finally, HawkShadow shook his head in frustration.

“I am going forward half the distance to the perimeter,” he said. “You may remain here. If they attack me, flee.”

“I am going with you,” StarWind declared. “I will not show cowardice to the enemy, but we go no further than half way.”

“Agreed,” nodded HawkShadow as they started walking forward.

They quickly covered half the distance to the perimeter and stopped. HawkShadow called loudly for representatives to come and talk. The Motangans continued to wave for the Sakovans to come closer, but HawkShadow shook his head exaggeratedly. Eventually the general and Zatho came forward and stopped a few paces away.

“You are afraid to enter our camp?” Zatho sneered at StarWind. “I thought all Sakovans were brave.”

“It took you long enough to come out and meet us, Zatho,” retorted StarWind. “You should not question the bravery of two Sakovans who have already been inside your encampment.”

“Enough,” scowled the Motangan general. “What is the purpose of this meeting?”

“The Star of Sakova wishes to meet under the flag of truce with Premer Doralin,” stated HawkShadow. “We have been sent to request such a meeting.”

“Is the Star of Sakova intending to surrender?” asked the general.

“Surrender?” laughed HawkShadow. “We are not the ones starving to death.”

“Then you are wasting our time,” spat Zatho. “Crawl back to your camp and prepare to die. There will be no meeting and no truce.”

“We do not know the reason for the meeting,” StarWind interjected quickly. “We have only been sent to request one.”

Zatho grinned victoriously, and StarWind glared at the black cloak.

“I do not know where you get your information,” stated the general, “but we have no problems with our supplies. If you can guarantee that the Star of Sakova wishes to surrender, I will recommend that Premer Doralin appoint someone to discuss terms with her. I can see no other reason for such a meeting.”

HawkShadow opened his mouth to speak, but StarWind cut him off.

“The meeting must be between the Star of Sakova and Premer Doralin,” the spymaster stated. “No other Motangan is acceptable. We will come back tomorrow morning to ask once again for the meeting. In the meantime I suggest that you reevaluate your food stocks.”

HawkShadow and StarWind backed slowly away from the Motangans. Zatho’s hand rose menacingly, but the general reached out and restrained the mage.

“You will never break a truce in such a manner without the premer’s instructions,” berated the general. “Join me in a trip to Doralin’s tent. He will want to hear both of our impressions of this meeting.”

The meeting had been held close enough to the Motangan encampment that some of the soldiers had been able to listen in. Word spread quickly through the encampment, and hopes of a Sakovan surrender raised the spirits of the Motangans. The general and Zatho reported immediately to the premer’s tent. General Valatosa was present when they arrived. The general reported the conversation verbatim, adding in as many of the nonverbal details as he could.

“Why was I not called?” asked Premer Doralin.

“I feared that it might be a trap,” stated the general. “While our archers would have surely avenged our deaths, I would not want the premer to be in such an indefensible position.”

“A fair answer,” Doralin nodded with satisfaction. “What do you make of their request?”

“I am puzzled,” admitted the general. “Their tone was certainly confrontational, but the woman seemed to leave open the possibility of a Sakovan surrender. Frankly, I don’t trust them. The Sakovan tactics have been irregular. If they had met us in the open and fought, they would have been annihilated long ago. I suspect trickery.”

“The Sakovans are not to be trusted,” interjected Zatho who had remained silent so far. “The female was StarWind. She is the one who escaped from here after being taken hostage. I was led to believe that the male with her was the one who rescued her. I think they intend to assassinate you in the hopes that the rest of us will flee.”

“A possibility,” nodded General Valatosa. “The fact that the Star of Sakova chose the two people who have already been into this camp as messengers might be significant. StarWind knows what you look like, Doralin. There is danger lurking in this proposed meeting.”

“True,” nodded Doralin, “but their evaluation of our food problem is very accurate. If we don’t get some food into this camp in the next day or two, we must break off the fight. Do you think that the Sakovans might know about the men we sent to Alamar?”

“That is possible,” shrugged Valatosa, “but not certain. The Sakovans are surely to the west of us, and might have missed our men going east, but they also seem to have no trouble finding our camp. It is just as likely that their spies reported the column leaving.”

“Which is why they must strike now,” interjected Zatho. “They know that we will guard the food caravans with a great number of men. We will only be anxious to talk to them while we are hungry. Once the food shipment arrives, there will be no reason to discuss anything with the savages. It is all a trick. I say that we wait them out.”

“Your advice has been noted, Zatho,” frowned the premer. “Valatosa?”

“If it were not for their insistence that you be present,” Valatosa replied, “I would suggest accepting the meeting, but some fears are justified here. I personally would like to hear what they have to say. Such a personal meeting always gives one an insight into the enemy’s state of mind.”

“Well said,” nodded Doralin. “I, too, am curious. Would the Star of Sakova actually expose herself to danger so close to our camp? Do we have any way to verify her identity?”

“Clarvoy reported that she bears a strange mark on one of her fingers,” offered Zatho. “It is a blue star that she normally keeps covered by a ring.”

“A tattoo?” asked the premer.

“Not a tattoo,” Zatho shook his head. “It was described as a blue gem imbedded in her skin. There is a possibility that we can turn the tables on the Sakovans,” the mage added with a grin. “We could accept the meeting and assassinate the Star of Sakova. It would demoralize the enemy and make their destruction that much easier.”