Richard Tuttle - Army of the Dead

“Yes,” scowled Zatho. “I have tried every place that I could think of. The spell no longer works.”

“You are worthless, Zatho,” snapped the premer.

“How dare you speak to me that way?” retorted the Motangan mage. “Need I remind you that I report directly to the emperor? I shall report this disrespect to Vand immediately.”

“You will, will you?” snarled Doralin. “And just how will you do that?”

The black cloak frowned in frustration as he glared at the premer.

“Let me make one thing perfectly clear to you, Zatho,” the premer continued menacingly. “I have never cared much for mages, and I have loathed you in particular. That you were the one mage to survive the battle of the ridge is a cruel irony. You are a pompous, arrogant, little weasel of a man.”

Zatho’s face bulged with rage. His arms quivered, and one of them began to rise. General Valatosa swiftly drew his sword and held it to the mage’s throat. Premer Doralin nodded in appreciation.

“If your finger so much as twitches in my presence again,” Doralin warned venomously, “you will die a slow and painful death. You need to be reminded that your fellow mages are dead and will not come to your aid. You stand alone in the midst of eighty thousand Motangan soldiers, who like myself, detest your kind. You will remove yourself from this tent and work on your air tunnel. When you succeed in getting it to work, you will return here before transmitting any message. I no longer trust you to communicate with others outside of my command without being overseen by someone loyal to me. Get out of my sight.”

Zatho was shaking with rage as he retreated from the tent. General Valatosa sheathed his sword and shook his head at the premer.

“You would have been better served to have ordered me to kill him,” the general advised softly. “A mage is not the type of enemy to turn your back on. Zatho will now seek to undermine you in any way that he can.”

“Zatho’s kind are all the same,” countered Doralin. “He would knife me in the back for lesser reasons than the ones I just gave him. I would have let you kill him if I was not in such dire need of a mage who knows the air tunnel spell. Once I get a message out of this infernal forest, I will let you kill him.”

“If he doesn’t get a message off to Vand first,” sighed Valatosa.

“I hope he succeeds,” shrugged the premer. “No one will come to relieve me of this command without bringing food with him. If our situation does not improve by this evening, I am ordering a fallback to Alamar in the morning.”

“Are you serious?” asked the general. “Vand will not like that.”

“I am past the point of caring what Vand likes or dislikes,” shrugged the premer. “Our men are starving, general. If we do not get food, we will lose the entire army. I prefer to retreat and take my punishment rather than watch men under my command starve to death.”

“Take your punishment?” echoed the general. “You do realize what you are saying? The only punishment you will receive is death. You must know that?”

“I know,” nodded Premer Doralin, “but it must be done. If we can retreat quickly to Alamar and get the men fed, we can then return here to chase the Sakovans. By the time anyone thinks of punishing me, we will have been victorious.”

“Ah,” the general smiled and nodded. “Now I understand. It will not be a retreat at all. We will merely be attacking to the east to make sure no Sakovans got behind us.”

“Exactly,” chuckled Doralin. “Zatho will have to die before we get back to Alamar. I will leave that in your hands.”

The tent flap flew open and a soldier ran in. He halted before the Premer and saluted.

“There are three Sakovans at the perimeter,” the soldier reported. “There are the two from yesterday and another one who claims to be the Star of Sakova.”

“What does she look like?” asked the premer.

“She is quite young,” reported the soldier, “clearly younger than the other two.”

“Younger than the other two?” echoed Valatosa. “StarWind and the other one were not very old. If this Star of Sakova is that young, perhaps we can make this a very short meeting. She can’t have much experience in negotiations.”

“Perhaps,” shrugged the premer. “Valatosa, you will go and verify this woman’s identity. If she is indeed the Star of Sakova, bring her here for a meeting. Make sure that she arrives here safely. I have given my word. I expect it to be obeyed.”

General Valatosa nodded and left the tent. The soldier was about to leave when the premer halted him.

“You are to carry word through the entire encampment,” instructed the premer. “The Sakovans who are coming here are my guests. They are not to be disturbed for any reason unless they attack first. Anyone violating this order will be handed over to the Sakovans to do with as they wish. Do you understand?”

“Perfectly,” saluted the soldier.

The soldier hurried out of the tent, and the premer hesitated only slightly before leaving the tent himself. Once outside, he began issuing orders to the soldiers and officers nearby.

“I want a bountiful meal served when I call for it,” the premer said to one officer. “Scavenge the food supplies and find the best that we have left. I want it to look like we have an overabundance of supplies. Do I make myself clear?”

“Perfectly,” nodded the officer.

The premer turned and ordered a human corridor to form along the pathway to the perimeter. He wanted the Sakovans to be impressed with the number of soldiers facing them. When he was done issuing orders, the premer turned and gazed towards the perimeter in the direction that the Sakovans would be coming from. He wanted an early view of the Star of Sakova so his reactions would not be readable when she was introduced.

Premer Doralin did not have long to wait. He saw General Valatosa leading the Sakovans through the human corridor. The premer’s eyes focused on Lyra. She was indeed young, but she did not appear to be nervous. Her eyes moved casually over the assembled soldiers without intimidation. StarWind and the tall blond Sakovan were a different matter. Their eyes scanned the crowd as if constantly expecting an attack. Their bodies were poised to act on a moment’s notice, like some carnivorous beasts ready to pounce upon some unsuspecting prey.

Premer Doralin glanced around and saw a tremendous crowd had gathered opposite his tent. It was obvious that everyone wanted to see what the Sakovan leader looked like. He dismissed the soldiers from his mind and returned his attention to the approaching Sakovans. As they approached the tent, chaos erupted.

Premer Doralin saw a flash of light out of the corner of his eye, and then everything happened at once. StarWind dove at the Star of Sakova, colliding with her and causing the two females to fall towards the ground. The tall male Sakovan pivoted to one side, his arm rising fluidly and something shiny flying from his hand. A ball of fire flew past the Sakovans, streaking through the group where the Star of Sakova should have been standing, had she not been knocked over by StarWind. The fireball struck General Valatosa in the chest, his body flying backwards to land hard on the ground.

The male Sakovan drew a long two-handed sword as StarWind leaped to her feet and did likewise. The Star of Sakova rose to her feet, and a strange blue cylinder shot skyward around her. StarWind and the male Sakovan placed their backs close to the blue cylinder and held their swords out in front of them, each guarding a different side of their leader. From somewhere in the crowd of soldiers an arrow flew at the Star of Sakova. Doralin cringed as he helplessly watched it approach, but the arrow disappeared without explanation. The whole episode took only a second or two, but the images would stay in Doralin’s mind forever. He raised his hands high and shouted loudly.