Richard Tuttle - 13 Day War

Only two guards manned the smaller tent, and even though they were also watching the fiery missiles, they caught sight of the bloody colonel coming towards them from the larger tent. One of the guards frowned as he gazed at the approaching colonel. He stiffened and his mouth opened to challenge the officer, but the colonel spoke before he uttered a sound.

“I want this guard detail doubled immediately,” the colonel ordered brusquely, “and start paying more attention to this area of the camp instead of gazing at things that do not pertain to your task. This camp might come under full attack at any moment, and you stand gazing at the sky. Get more men here immediately.”

The two guards glanced at each other anxiously as the colonel strode between them and into the smaller command tent. Unlike the alert General Fortella, General Whitman was resting on a cot in a dark corner of the tent. Alex strode across the tent without drawing the attention of the general, but when he drew his sword, the general opened his eyes wide. Alex placed the tip of his sword at the general’s throat.

“I am not here to kill you this night,” Alex said softly, “but that night might yet come. You are the leader of Force Targa now. I think you need to dwell seriously on surrendering to the Alceans. It is the only way that you will survive this war.”

“Who are you?” croaked the general.

“Some call me Colonel Belasko,” Alex replied with a thin smile, “but you should think of things more important than my name. Your colonels will balk at surrendering because they do not know how pitifully the invasion is going. Your task is to seize control of this team and surrender it before the walls of Tagaret. Failure to do so will result in your entire team being destroyed, including yourself. Close your eyes now.”

The general closed his eyes, but his body shuddered uncontrollably. Alex woke his fairy and signaled for a sleep spell. Bitsy silently complied, and the general’s body fell still.

“Back into hiding,” Alex whispered. “We still have to get out of here.”

Bitsy climbed back into her pocket, and Alex sheathed his sword. Still counting numbers in his head, Alex quickened his step as he exited the tent. Without acknowledging the guards, he turned and headed towards the northern perimeter. He had not gotten very far from the road when he heard the shouts of treachery behind him. Someone had discovered the body of General Fortella. Alex broke into a run and raced for the perimeter.

Alex reached the northern perimeter area well before his appointed time. Fiery projectiles still rained down upon the encampment, and the area bordering the target zone was one of chaos and confusion. Brush fires ran rampant, and large trees, destroyed by tree mines, crisscrossed the ground, making an obstacle course out of the camp. Moans of the wounded and shouts of others created an audible jumble of sounds that added to the confusion. Some of the able soldiers were trying to evacuate the wounded, but others huddled behind trees for safety.

The plan had been for Alex to wait for a period of time when the magical assault on the camp would stop completely, giving him a safe window of opportunity to move through the target zone before the assault started anew, but the early discovery of General Fortella’s body demanded swifter action. He halted at the edge of the target zone and glanced around. The ground ahead was a land of total devastation. Nothing moved in the area except the smoke drifting up from the charred ground. Every couple of seconds, another fireball flew through the sky and impacted in a dazzling display of fire. The spells were no longer threatening the Federation army as everyone in the target zone was already dead, but no one seemed to be questioning why the mages were not changing the trajectories of their spells.

Anxiously waiting for the numbers to fall into place, Alex kept to the shadows at the edge of the target zone, but his time for waiting soon ended. Soldiers raced into the area looking for a bloody colonel, and Alex knew that he could not afford to wait for the lull in spells. He broke from the shadows and raced into the devastated area just as someone pointed to him and shouted to the others. As the Knight of Alcea ran across the blighted area, he caught sight of a quickly growing brilliance out of the corner of his eye. He dove forward, curling his body into a ball as the ground exploded behind him. As he rose to his feet and began running again, Federation arrows stabbed the ground on both sides of him. He sacrificed a bit of speed as he began to waver his path of escape. Another ball of fire slammed into the ground behind him, and he heard screams of pain as the fire consumed some of his pursuers. As Alex neared the relative safety of green forest, he felt an arrow whiz past his face. The arrow had come from in front of him, and he heard a gurgle of death behind him. He dove for the bushes before him.

“Hurry,” the female voice urged him, “but be silent. There are patrols out here searching for the mages.”

Alex rose to his feet and saw Princess Rhula let another arrow fly. He turned to see the last of his pursuers fall to the ground.

“I am indebted,” Alex said to the elven princess.

“So you are,” grinned Princess Rhula. “Send your fairy to the mages. There is no point in them risking capture now that you are no longer in the camp. Garong will aid their retreat.”

The Coastal Highway north of Trekum was a well-traveled road that passed through stands of forest and patches of grassland. Its broad expanse rolled over gentle hills and crossed valleys both broad and narrow. Along its wide surface, the 10 thCorps cavalry rode three abreast followed by six files of infantry. Behind the 10 thCorps of Ertak, the 22 ndCorps of Spino waited in camp for their turn to head south. When fully assembled, Team Caldar would stretch for over two leagues in length, and that was an inviting target for the nomadic horsemen of Sordoa.

As the sun rose over the Sordoan Sea on the twelfth day of the Zaran invasion, sunlight glinted off the swords and shields of Sordoan horsemen who occupied the western end of a broad grassy valley which was bordered by forests on both sides. Shouts of alarm rippled through the ranks of the 10 thCorps, and the infantry section that was crossing the valley immediately halted and pivoted towards the enemy. The first rank dropped to one knee and raised their shields. The second rank stood and raised their shields, while the other four ranks prepared their bows. The shield bearers drew their swords and waited for the attack. They did not have long to wait.

One-thousand Sordoan horsemen charged from the far western end of the valley, their war cries loud and reverberating. The sunlight danced off their shields sending blinding rays of sunlight into the faces of the Zarans, but the archers were unmoved. They glanced down to avoid the light and waited for the enemy to come within range. The sound of the galloping horses thundered and the ground rumbled increasingly as the horses drew closer. Zaran arrows were nocked as men in the first rank called out the distance of the approaching horde. Bows were raised high for an early strike, and squad leaders started counting down to zero.

Unexpectedly, the Sordoans turned in a well-practiced maneuver. Zaran arrows flew through the sky, but the Sordoans were no longer charging. With long crisscrossing sweeps from side-to-side, the Sordoan horsemen reversed course and began galloping away, yet the thunder and pounding did not diminish. The Zaran archers nocked arrows again, ready for another reversal that would bring the Sordoans back into range. It never happened.

Even as the Sordoans galloped away from the column, the thunder and rumbling increased. Eventually, one of the Federation soldiers turned around and saw the real threat. Charging out of the sun from the eastern end of the valley were thousands of Sordoan horsemen, the noise of their advance covered up by the charge from the west. They were already too close for the Zarans to reform their defensive line. Some of the closest Zarans dropped to one knee and tried to raise their shields as they had been taught, but others fired their arrows into the sun, hoping to score a blind hit. The Sordoans used their horse bows for three shots each before releasing their bows to hang on saddle tethers. They drew their swords as they surged into the Federation line and cut their way through to the other side.