Richard Tuttle - Army of the Dead

“The distance to the free tribes is great,” mused the premer. “I think our priority should be to find Angragar. The Fakarans will remain trapped on the peninsula. We can choose our time to turn southward and trap them between our armies and the sea. I have suddenly begun to feel very optimistic about this campaign.”

General Luggar glanced at Bakhai and frowned. Premer Cardijja noticed the glance and shook his head.

“Go outside and play, Bakhai,” the premer said in a friendly manner. “I will call for you if we need to talk more.”

Bakhai smiled and nodded. He moved eagerly to the tent flap and let himself out. Premer Cardijja shook his head once more and turned his gaze upon General Luggar.

“You still do not trust the lad?” he asked.

“I do not trust any Fakaran,” shrugged the general. “It is one thing to ask questions of the captive, but quite another to reveal your thoughts to him.”

“His information has been accurate in every regard,” the premer defended Bakhai. “We could never have progressed so far without his help. We would still be blindly searching for a pass through the mountains.”

“The roads were easy enough to spot,” retorted the general. “I am sure that our scouts would have found them.”

“We were too far north to find this pass,” countered the premer. “I will grant you that we might have found the Valley of Bones, but we would probably have missed the jungle that lies ahead. I wonder if the jungle is large enough to conceal the lost city?”

“It is probably similar to the jungles on Motanga,” offered General Luggar. “It is most likely a small strip along the coast.”

“Is it?” questioned the premer. “Bakhai says that we will reach the jungle in two days, yet we cannot be close to the coast. I am imagining a much larger jungle than on the Island of Darkness.”

“Perhaps,” shrugged General Luggar. “What did you make of his description of the Valley of Bones?”

“The name is strange,” mused the premer, “but it is worth checking out. Should the free tribes move northward, we could use it as a place to defend. I do not care to be caught on the plain with horsemen charging my position. I saw what the Fakaran horsemen are capable of in such a situation. It cost me fifty thousand men.”

“Yet we are heading for a plain tomorrow,” cautioned the general.

“It must be crossed to get to the jungle,” retorted the premer. “We will only spend two days at most upon it. Once we gain the safety of the jungle, the Fakaran horsemen will lose their advantage.”

“Then you were wise to order an early halt to today’s march,” noted the general. “The men should be well rested in case there is trouble in the next two days.”

“You worry too much,” replied the premer. “I am feeling very good about things right now. Go and get some rest yourself, Luggar. Tomorrow we will tread on uncharted Fakaran land.”

Bakhai heard the general preparing to leave the tent. He quickly dropped his air tunnel and picked up a stick. He started drawing in the dirt as the general left the premer’s tent. Luggar hardly glanced at the lad as he headed for his own tent. Bakhai smiled inwardly and rose from the ground. He walked through the large camp towards the east and settled on the ground not far from the sentries manning the perimeter.

Over the past few days, the Fakaran lad had become a familiar sight to the sentries. They even nodded to him in a friendly manner when he arrived each evening. Bakhai stretched out on the ground facing east and appeared to be resting and watching the sentries. After his daily arrival, the sentries paid no attention to him. Bakhai wove an air tunnel to a position one league to the east. He spoke softly, his voice no more than a whisper to himself.

“I told them that the free tribes are far to the south along the Taggot River,” reported Bakhai. “I also said that the Valley of Bones was uninhabited and would make a good defensive position.”

“Any reactions to your information?” asked the Qubari shaman.

“There was a discussion on searching for Angragar or heading south to battle the free tribes,” answered Bakhai. “The premer has decided to pursue the location of Angragar.”

“Well done,” replied the shaman. “Be forewarned,” he continued. “The Motangans will be attacked tomorrow. Perhaps you should escape during the night. Do you need a diversion, or can you escape on your own?”

“I cannot leave,” replied Bakhai. “If I fled tonight, General Luggar would suspect an attack tomorrow. He is still suspicious of me.”

“He will be more than suspicious after the attack,” warned the shaman. “You must flee.”

“No,” Bakhai said adamantly after a long pause. “There is more that I can do to affect the outcome of tomorrow’s battle.”

“What can you possibly do, brother of the Astor?” asked the shaman. “Flee while it is safe to do so. Tomorrow night your life will most certainly be forfeit.”

Bakhai dropped the air tunnel and fell silent as he thought about the shaman’s question. He knew that prudence required that he escape before morning, but he also knew that such a maneuver would cost the free tribes greatly. General Luggar would certainly demand defensive procedures that would result in many Fakarans dying needlessly. Bakhai rose quietly and returned to the premer’s tent. He stretched out alongside the tent and fell asleep.

Bakhai awoke shortly after the sun had set. He sat up and let his eyes rove over the encampment. Campfires glowed as the sky darkened, and the stars began to appear. The Fakaran spy sat silently and watched the Motangans eat and prepare for a night’s sleep. For several hours, Bakhai did not move. As the night progressed, the Motangans retired for the night. Only a few soldiers moved within the camp near the premer’s tent, but Bakhai knew that the perimeter would be ringed with sentries. They were not his concern at the moment.

Bakhai wove an air tunnel and directed it to the east. He did not however extend it the normal one league, but rather shortened it to a distance halfway between the premer’s tent and the perimeter. Bakhai’s mouth moved as he slowly turned the air tunnel clockwise around the camp. He was not concerned about the black-cloaks intercepting his air tunnel, as the sounds emitted out of Bakhai’s mouth would be unintelligible to the Motangan mages. The sounds, however, were understood clearly by the insects living within the camp. Throughout the camp, millions of ants and spiders began moving. They swarmed over the sleeping bodies, biting and stinging as they went.

The Motangan encampment came alive with shouts and curses from every quadrant. The men inside tents came storming out, stamping their feet on the ground and dancing around like drunken fools at an all night festival. Those who slept outdoors were rolling on the ground and swatting their bodies to rid themselves of the insects. Campfires surged anew as soldiers gathered in the light to inspect each other’s bodies and remove the biting insects.

Within an hour the encampment grew quiet. Bakhai heard soldiers complaining about welts on their skin and terrible itching, but eventually everyone returned to sleep. Bakhai waited until the encampment was quiet and then repeated his call to the insects. Once again the little creatures swarmed out of their hiding places and struck the Motangan soldiers.

Bakhai reclined and feigned sleep as Premer Cardijja came storming out of his tent. The Fakaran spy had exempted the large tent from his orders to the insects so that he would not be bitten himself. This exception spared the Motangan premer from the uncomfortable surprise, but he glowered at the state of his encampment. Cardijja began shouting orders in an attempt to regain control over the soldiers, but it was a futile gesture. The soldiers ran around trying to rid themselves of the tiny bugs. Once again Bakhai let the camp quiet down.