Richard Tuttle - Army of the Dead

There was a long silent pause at the Khadoratung end of the air tunnel. Marshal Berman knew that there would be a heavy political price to pay for countermanding Lord Saycher’s orders, but he also believed that it was necessary. He was prepared to murder the Morgar lord if it was the only way.

“Get me Lord Saycher,” the Emperor commanded the air mage.

The air mage walked towards Lord Saycher, carrying the air tunnel with her. Marshal Berman followed silently.

“Lord Saycher,” said the air mage, “Emperor Marak wishes to speak to you.”

Lord Saycher turned and looked at the air mage. He saw Marshal Berman, and his lips curled in rage.

“Yes, Emperor,” Lord Saycher said calmly into the air tunnel.

“Lord Saycher,” Emperor Marak said, “I am ordering you to come to Khadoratung immediately to discuss the fighting in the east. I am placing Marshal Berman in command of the armies.”

“He will retreat,” objected Lord Saycher. “You cannot allow him to cut and run without putting up a fight. I protest this decision.”

“I am aware of Marshal Berman’s intentions,” replied the Torak, “but I am also aware of your reservations. I intend for something in between to occur, but that is no longer your concern. Do not misinterpret my commands. I am pleased with your service, and this is not meant as an insult or rebuke to you or the Morgar clan, but I want you back here in Khadoratung. Is Marshal Berman there?”

“I am here,” the marshal said loudly.

“Can you hold the Motangans for an hour?” asked the Emperor.

“At a cost,” nodded the Balomar marshal. “I can move the archers forward and threaten with a cavalry charge. That should buy us an hour, but we will lose many archers.”

“Do it,” commanded the Emperor, “and start the retreat. Stage the retreat with fallback archers if possible, but get those most vulnerable headed for the third trench. Use the cavalry only after the Motangans have moved out of sight of the second trench. Do you understand?”

“Perfectly,” answered the marshal. “Are you planning on sending reinforcements? Why the hour delay?”

“Reinforcements are coming,” smiled Marak, “but not anything that you or the Motangans would expect. Give the orders, Marshal. Time is running out.”

The mage reported that the air tunnel had dropped, and Marshal Berman called for the air mages to gather around him. He started issuing orders to put the delaying plan into action. The Khadoran archers moved forward under a hail of Motangan arrows. The mages and infantry began a run towards the third trench several leagues away. The Khadoran cavalry charged towards the trench, but turned away at the last moment. The Motangan archers panicked each time that it appeared as if the Khadoran cavalry would leap over the trench. After several charges without any attack, the Motangans began to ignore the cavalry. Marshal Berman ordered the horsemen to withdraw and set up defensive positions beyond the view of the second trench. The requested hour sped by, and no word came from the air mages regarding any reinforcements. Marshal Berman began to doubt the help that Emperor Marak had promised.

Unexpectedly, shouts rose over the din of the battle from the north end of the fighting. Marshal Berman rose on his toes to see what the commotion was about, but he could see nothing. The shouting grew louder as it came closer to the knoll that Marshal Berman stood on. The shouts came from both sides of the trench, but still the marshal could see no reason for it. He frowned in frustration.

Suddenly, he saw the source of the commotion. His mouth fell open as he watched the dragon soaring just above the level of the ground on the enemy’s side of the trench. It held Motangan soldiers in each claw, and Emperor Marak sat on its back. The Balomar marshal’s eyes grew wide as he watched the emperor throw magical spells at the Motangans. Sheets of fire flew from one hand while spinning blades of light emanated from the other. The marshal shook his head in disbelief. The dragon tossed the Motangan bodies into the crowd of enemy soldiers and snared two more while flames shout out of its mouth.

Marshal Berman watched the dragon speed by, knocking hundreds of Motangan archers into the trench. Other Motangans tried to turn around and flee, but that was impossible. There was no room for them to retreat. Magical fireballs started soaring towards the speeding dragon as the Motangan mages tried to kill it or its rider, but the dragon was flying too low and too fast for them to hit it. Some of the fireballs flew into the Khadoran archers, but even more fell on the Motangan side of the trench. The enemy mages were too far from the trench to be effective.

As the dragon sped out of view, Marshal Berman gazed back along its path. The enemy side of the trench was bare of humans for a dozen paces beyond the rim, and the Motangans were not pushing forward any more. In fact, those nearest the rim were trying to force their way further away from it. Far to the south, the dragon rose into the sky. Some Motangan mages still tried to reach the dragon as fireballs flew into the sky, but its altitude was too great. Unexpectedly, a voice spoke loudly to Marshal Berman. It was the voice of the Torak.

“Start a full scale retreat, Berman,” the Emperor said. “I will try to buy you time with the threat of another pass by the dragon. Do not delay.”

Within seconds the voice was gone. Marshal Berman did not attempt to reply to the Emperor’s message. He started snapping off orders to the air mages. His attention was split between the retreating armies and the dragon. While he tried to keep a close eye on the retreat to make sure that no problems were occurring, he could not help watching the dragon swoop lower whenever the Motangans tried to approach the rim of the trench.

On several occasions, the Motangan mages came close to hitting the dragon. Enemy archers also took a shot at trying to hit it, but the marshal swore that the dragon laughed at them whenever they tried. He shook his head in disbelief. Not only did he not believe in dragons, but also he could not believe that the Emperor was a mage. He had fought alongside Marak at the battle of Balomar and would never have guessed that he held magical power in his hands. He wondered what the Khadoran soldiers would think of an emperor who was also a mage.

Marshal Berman pushed the thoughts from his mind and concentrated on the retreat. He smiled broadly when he received the message that the infantry had reached the third trench. When the message came in that the mages were also crossing the bridge, he knew that the Emperor had saved the day. The Balamor marshal waved to the dragon and ordered the archers to retreat. He called for his own horse and ordered the air mages to mount up. As he rode past the defensive cavalry positions, he saw the dragon high in the sky heading north. He smiled broadly and waved even though he knew his gesture would go unseen. As far as the marshal was concerned, he was thrilled to have an emperor mage.

Myka circled high over the second trench until the Khadoran infantry and mages were safely beyond the third and final trench. The Torak spoke briefly, and the dragon banked away to the northwest. Emperor Marak gazed down as the Khadoran soldiers waved at the dragon overhead. He smiled inwardly and wondered what the ramifications might be when others heard about the dragon and the emperor mage that rode her. Both were secrets that Marak had held closely, but the time for such secrets was over. Marak sighed anxiously as Myka headed for the Khadoran city of Sintula where the armies of the Imperial Valley were gathering.

Sintula, the third largest city in Khadora, was situated at the convergence of the Lituk and Khadora rivers. The skies around Sintula were already thick with smoke as the Khadorans burned their fields to prevent the food from falling to the enemy. Whatever crops could be harvested were already on their way to Khadoratung to feed the refugees and fill warehouses for the armies to draw from.