Richard Tuttle - Army of the Dead

“I know you, Marak,” Lyra interjected, her eyes narrowing as she stared at the Torak. “You are contemplating something else that you have not mentioned. What is it?”

Emperor Marak grinned and shook his head. “It is an outrageous thought,” he shrugged. “Imagine how much easier these evacuations would be if we had just one of Vand’s ships. “We could transport a thousand people to Khadoratung at a time.”

“What will Vand’s ships be doing after the armies disembark?” asked HawkShadow. “Will they stay and wait for the armies? Will they return to the Island of Darkness for more soldiers?”

“I truly don’t know,” conceded the Torak. “With the number of ships that Vand built, I can’t see the ships going for more armies. My guess is that the ships would be used to bring in supplies to aid the armies already here. I can envision a fleet of them making constant trips to Duran. Perhaps some of them would be detailed to make runs between Duran and the Island of Darkness. As Vand draws supplies out of Duran, those items must be replaced.”

“I am beginning to see why you do not want to completely yield the sea to the Motangans,” sighed the Star of Sakova. “It is vital to Vand’s plans.”

“Very much so,” nodded Marak. “He knows that we will make the land here inhospitable for his troops. They cannot rely on getting any food while they are here unless it is shipped in.”

“Then we must cut off his ability to do that,” Lyra said adamantly.

“Yes,” agreed Emperor Marak. “You must draw his armies deep into the Sakova. If we can get forces behind him, it will not necessarily be to attack him from the rear, but to cut off his supply lines.”

“His army could turn around and retake Alamar,” warned General Manitow. “You would need a force in Alamar large enough to withstand a second attack. I don’t see how we can do that.”

“That is the puzzle that we have to solve,” nodded Emperor Marak. “Our force in Alamar would have no path of retreat. Their backs would be against the sea. That is not an enviable position for any army. This problem needs a lot of input. Gather your generals and discuss it. I am returning to Khadoratung to do the same. Do you wish to return to StarCity, Lyra? Or are you staying in Alamar?”

“I am staying here,” answered the Star of Sakova.

“Only until the attack begins,” frowned Temiker. “We cannot lose the Star of Sakova in the opening battle of this war.”

“Lyra will be protected at all times,” countered HawkShadow. “Every Sakovan would give their life to protect her, and she is not without her own abilities to defend herself.”

“I understand that,” sighed Temiker. “Her power is immense, and she could kill many Motangans here, but there is great danger as well. Vand will seek to kill the Three. If he can do that, the war is lost, for it is those Three who must defeat Vand in the end.”

“There is wisdom in Temiker’s words,” frowned Emperor Marak. “Vand would gladly allow us to keep Alamar for now, if he could kill the Star of Sakova. How many dead Motangans is Lyra worth? A thousand? Ten thousand? A hundred thousand? Vand would gladly pay any of those numbers to destroy the Star of Sakova.”

“Are you saying that I should run and hide my precious body while evil armies overrun my cities?” scowled Lyra. “The Torak certainly would not. I can easily picture you leading your troops into battle.”

“There is nothing I would like more,” admitted Emperor Marak, “but I know that I cannot be allowed to do that recklessly. I am not saying that you should hide, Lyra. I am saying that you must measure the risk carefully. Your life is not yours to throw away. Neither is mine. We did not ask for this, but we have to live with it. I only ask you to be very cautious.”

Lyra’s lips pressed tightly together as she nodded in understanding. She hugged Marak and wished him a safe journey home.

Premer Doralin stood on the bow of the ship, his smile broad as his eyes gazed over the breadth of his fleet of ships. The lookout, high above the deck of the ship, had just reported that the peaks of the Wytung Mountains had been sighted on the horizon. The premer immediately walked to the bow so that he would be able to see the peaks as they appeared. He was eagerly awaiting his first view of the mainland when the lookout shouted again.

Doralin gazed upward to see the lookout pointing to the south. The premer turned and gazed to port. Scores of huge ships bobbed atop the water, but he saw nothing amiss. He shielded his eyes from the sun and still could see nothing alarming. He turned and grabbed an officer who was walking by.

“Find out what the lookout is shouting about,” commanded the premer.

As the officer ran off, Doralin returned to gazing at the ships on his left flank. It was an awesome sight to behold as the huge ships rose and fell on the small swells. His mind drifted to the coming invasion, and he tried to picture the foreign city and what it would look like. The premer was deep in thought when the officer returned.

“The lookout has seen the sails of smaller boats,” reported the officer. “He thinks that they might be fishing vessels, but there are a lot of them. He thought you should be informed. Are they to be attacked?”

“Fishing boats?” frowned the premer. “We should not waste our time with them. I want this fleet together when we attack Alamar.”

The officer nodded and left. The premer faced forward again and returned his thoughts to the coming invasion. The fishing boats made his mind think of a peaceful city unaware of the coming storm, thousands of people going about their daily chores. He was well aware from the intelligence reports that the Sakovan armies were preparing for a fight, but he wondered if the citizenry had even been told of the coming mayhem.

The lookout shouted once more, and Premer Doralin gazed skyward. Again the lookout pointed to the south, but the man was obviously more frantic this time. Doralin turned to his left and raised his hand to block the sun. He could see the sails of the smaller vessels now as they came closer to his armada.

“Fools,” commented a voice as it came up alongside the premer. “Those small boats will be crushed if they get in the way of these huge ships.”

“Any sailor should know that, General Valatosa,” nodded the premer as he acknowledged the man next to him. “Can these Sakovans really be that stupid that they would put such small craft in front of this armada? I don’t think so. I think we are witnessing something a bit more nefarious than anything we expected. Summon a mage. Be quick about it.”

The small boats moved in close to the armada of behemoths. Premer Doralin watched with morbid curiosity as to what they would attempt to do. His jaw dropped and his eyebrows rose as the first harpoon was fired. The large ship that had been hit suddenly veered to port. Even as he was trying to understand what was happening, several other small boats sent harpoons flying into the large Motangan ships. The soldiers on the first ship hit started jumping overboard by the hundreds. Premer Doralin watched in awe as the floundering ship started to sink lower in the water. Several following ships slowed and started picking up the crewmen from the first ship. When the large ships slowed, they became easier targets for the Sakovans. The premer’s veins began to bulge and his hands curled into fists of rage.

“You require a mage?” asked the man in the black hood as he stopped next to Doralin.

“Send messages to the ships to our south,” demanded the premer. “No ship is to slow down for survivors. All small vessels are to be sunk immediately. Do it quickly. Thousands of lives depend upon it.”