Richard Tuttle - Army of the Dead

“Belay those orders,” Marshal Berman said to the air mage. “Something is different with the Motangan approach to this trench. I wonder what they are up to.”

The Khadoran marshal watched with curiosity as the Motangan archers drew back. He subconsciously heard the air mage sending the messages out, but he tuned them out as he watched the battle cease. The Khadoran archers were left with no targets to aim at, as the Motangans pulled back out of range. Unexpectedly, a large swarm of black cloaks appeared at the vanguard of the Motangans.

“What they are up to is magic,” said a female voice beside him.

Marshal Berman glanced to his left to see who was talking. He saw an elderly woman, but not the air mage that he had just given directions to.

“You should remain with the rest of the mages,” cautioned Marshal Berman. “This is too dangerous a location for you unless you are called for.”

The old mage ignored the marshal and wove an air tunnel. He frowned at her as she began issuing orders to the mages. He listened as she ordered the mages to advance to the front lines.

“What are you doing?” snapped Marshal Berman. “I do not want our mages in harm’s way. Cancel those orders, or I shall have you removed from this ridge.”

“I am doing what the Torak has commanded,” the woman replied, unafraid of the marshal’s wrath. “I am Glenda. We are about to be attacked magically. I strongly advise you to withdraw your archers immediately. The area around the trench is about to become a magical killing field.”

Marshal Berman immediately turned to the other air mage who had been handling the orders to retreat. He marched towards her in a sour mood.

“I want to contact the emperor immediately, “ he snapped. “Find out who this Glenda is and if he has issued orders to her to countermand my commands.”

“Glenda is the emperor’s mother,” the air mage said softly as she wove an air tunnel to Sintula. “She is in command of the mages.”

Marshal Berman frowned as he heard the air mage request the emperor. Marak’s voice came through a moment later.

“What is happening?” asked the Torak.

“I am not sure,” admitted Marshal Berman. “Motangan mages are coming forward. A woman mage is issuing orders that countermand my own. I understand that she is your mother. Is this true?”

“My mother is called Glenda,” answered the Torak. “If she is issuing orders, obey them. She must think a magical attack is coming or she would not have said anything.”

“Why was I not informed of being replaced?” asked the marshal.

“You have not been replaced, Marshal Berman,” replied the Torak. “I have complete faith in you. Glenda was told to watch for magical attacks and move quickly to counteract them. She has my complete faith. Listen to her and work with her. She will relinquish command when the magical nature of the attack is over.”

“But she is ordering the mages to the front lines,” protested Berman. “Many of them will be killed.”

“That may be so,” conceded the emperor, “but Glenda would not act unless your troops are in dire danger. Her instructions were to intervene only in the case of an emergency. I suspect the third trench is about to fall, and fall in a disastrous way. Prepare for a swift retreat.”

The air tunnel was dropped at the emperor’s end. Marshal Berman stood fuming for a few seconds before ordering the air mage to follow him. He returned to stand at Glenda’s side.

“I am sorry for this,” Glenda said softly, “but magical warfare is something your men are not prepared for.”

“What are the Motangans going to do?” asked the marshal.

“I am not sure,” admitted Glenda, “but Premer Shamal has gone to great lengths to protect his mages, as you have. Now he is sending them forward. It is an ominous move. I strongly suggest that you withdraw your men from the trench. Do not let them remain where the enemy expects them to be. We do not know the power of Motangan mages.”

“But our mages will be decimated without my archers,” objected the marshal.

“Our mages are warriors just like your men, Marshal,” countered Glenda. “They will not expose themselves to unnecessary harm, but they will fight to the death for Khadora. Withdraw your archers quickly.”

Marshal Berman stared at the approaching black cloaks for a moment before nodding and turning to the other air mage.

“Order the archers to retreat five hundred paces,” he ordered. “Have the infantry move forward and use shields to protect the archers. Get our cavalry commanders to move to the sidelines and prepare to charge towards the center in front of the infantry in case of a breaching of the trench.”

The air mage nodded and began to issue orders through her air tunnel. Marshal Berman watched his entire army burst into motion. The archers moved back, and the infantry moved forward. The mages moved past them all to become the front lines of the Khadoran army. The Motangan black cloaks continued to advance. They eventually halted at a point that was just outside the range of the archers.

“If we call the archers forward,” Marshal Berman said softly to Glenda, “we could strike a few of them down before they retreated.”

“Not yet,” Glenda shook her head. “I fear the trench will soon become a death zone. We must wait for the black cloaks to commit themselves. Once they are into their spell casting, our mages will attack. You may want to bring the archers forward at that time, but I am not sure.”

Marshal Berman nodded as his fury at being overridden by Glenda began to fade. He watched the enemy with curiosity as forces on both sides of the trench moved to follow orders. He wondered what had changed the Motangan approach to crossing the trenches.

Unexpectedly, the ground became to tremble. Marshal Berman gazed at the black cloaks as they raised their arms and brought them down again. Each reiteration caused the ground to rumble with more ferocity. Within moments the trench began to crumble. Large rocks broke out of the earth and vibrated towards the trench. Loose dirt flowed like rivers from both sides of the trench towards the gaping gash in the surface of the ground.

“They are causing the trench to be filled!” Marshal Berman shouted with alarm as he watched boulders unearthed and sent rolling towards the trench.

“Very clever,” nodded Glenda. “The Motangans could then rush across the land where the trench once existed and rout our troops. I have other ideas.”

Glenda issued terse commands into an air tunnel and then returned to watching the drama unfold. Marshal Berman looked questioningly at the emperor’s mother, but she did not notice, her gaze intent on watching the black cloaks.

“How can you stop this?” Marshal Berman asked as the ground began to vibrate so severely that the horses were becoming spooked.

“Patience,” Glenda replied softly. “We must let the Motangans continue to the point where they dare not leave the job unfinished. If we attacked now, the black cloaks would merely retreat. If we wait until their success is only a moment away, they will try to weather our attack to finish the task at hand. That is when they will die.”

The ground rumbled more severely, and Marshal Berman saw his men struggling to maintain their balance. The trench was rapidly being filled by the debris flowing towards it. He was about to open his mouth to protest Glenda’s delay when he noticed that something was different. While the rocks were still rolling rapidly towards the trench on the Khadoran side, the debris on the Motangan side was slowing down.

“Now you will witness why our mages have been kept near the front lines,” smiled Glenda. “It was just for a moment like this.”