Richard Tuttle - 13 Day War

“Time will be short,” frowned Rut-ki. “You must know that all of the men will not survive. A lone tunnel will not allow enough time for them to escape.”

“The men know this,” nodded the colonel. “Those manning the trench volunteered for the duty, and they did so when they thought the tunnel would not even be completed in time. They are determined to avenge the deaths of their comrades and prevent the enemy from reaching Ongchi.”

The Knight of Alcea nodded sadly. “What about the Federation flankers?”

“We do not have enough men to defend against both flanking movements, but we can harass them. Elandros and his elves will take the northern flank and our cavalry will take the southern flank. The rest is up to the gods.”

“May they smile upon us,” Rut-ki replied solemnly. “The Battle of Lizard Hill will be a bloody landmark in the history of Alcea. Let us hope that it buys General Za-hong the time he needs.”

* * * *

The Federation armies of Team Mya remained in camp even as the sun climbed high in the sky. Inside the large command tent, the ten colonels of the 2 ndCorps of the Empire of Barouk gathered to mark the passing of General Fortella. The mood was one of anger, not only for the death of the Baroukan general, but also for the hesitancy of General Whitman to break camp.

“He isn’t holding camp to mourn General Fortella,” complained one of the colonels. “He is afraid to march on Tagaret.”

“I heard that the assassin entered Whitman’s tent,” added another colonel. “Why is he still alive?”

“Maybe the assassin worked for Whitman,” another colonel proposed with a scowl.

“That is nonsense,” declared Colonel Tamora. “Whitman is holding camp because he is afraid to engage the Alceans. We all have heard the stories of the Aertan’s cowardice. We do not need to look for conspiracies to understand his fear of breaking camp.”

“Well,” replied a colonel, “there is a surefire way to break that logjam. One of us needs to be elevated in rank to replace General Fortella. Whitman will have to fall in line then.”

“There is no precedent for colonels deciding who is to become general,” stated Colonel Tamora. “That is for Grand General Kyrga to decide.”

“There is no precedent for Baroukans serving under an Aertan general, either,” scowled one of the colonels. “We cannot expect Grand General Kyrga to come to Alcea to promote one of us. The leadership of the 2 ndCorps is in our hands. Now, we can all squabble over who should get the promotion, but I think we need to be united in this, otherwise, General Whitman will object. As much as I want to be general, just like the rest of you, I think it is safe to say that General Fortella had been grooming Tamora for the promotion. I am willing to accept that. What say the rest of you?”

There were murmurs and grumbles for a few minutes, but the colonels eventually nodded in agreement. Colonel Tamora was congratulated and sent to confront General Whitman. He marched out of the large command tent and into the smaller one. The Aertan general looked up anxiously as the Baroukan colonel entered the tent, almost as if he knew the reason for the visit.

“I am assuming command of the 2 ndCorps,” Colonel Tamora announced.

“You have no authority to do so,” replied General Whitman. “With the death of General Fortella, I am now the leader of Team Mya and Force Targa. The 2 ndCorps will fall under my command.”

“The 2 ndCorps is Baroukan,” argued the colonel. “We are to be led by one of our countrymen. The other colonels selected me for the promotion.”

“Selected you?” scoffed the general. “Colonels do not select their generals any more than they can select which orders to obey. You are a member of Team Mya, and as such, you are under my command. You will hold whatever rank I determine you are capable of holding, and you will execute whatever orders I give you. To do otherwise is mutiny, and we both know the punishment for such an offense. Have I made myself clear, Colonel?”

“You have made your views known, General,” snapped the colonel, “but the 2 ndCorps is not going to stand around this encampment and wait for the Alcean armies to arrive. Team Mya was tasked to attack Tagaret. Why are we not doing so?”

“You will not question my orders again, Colonel,” the general said threateningly. “This team will move when I order it to do so. You are dismissed.”

The colonel opened his mouth to speak, but the general rose to his feet and angrily pointed towards the tent flap.

“Dismissed!” General Whitman bellowed.

Colonel Tamora pivoted and marched out of the tent. He stormed into the large command tent and told the assembled colonels what had transpired.

“That is unacceptable,” snarled one of the colonels. “I will not be led by an Aertan, and I will not be led by a coward.”

“You are repeating yourself,” one of the colonels said with a mischievous grin as he held out his fist. In his fist were ten splinters of wood, but only the ends were visible. “I expected such a response, and our path is quite clear to me. The short splinter gets the pleasure of killing the cowardly Aertan.”

The hill got its name from the locals who thought it looked like a giant lizard. The ridgeline of Lizard Hill was long and narrow with the tail end tapering off to the south. The northern extreme of the hill had a slight notch in the ridgeline, which separated a small portion of the hill from the larger part of it. The small portion was dubbed the head, and the notch was called the neck. The ridges of the head and the body of Lizard Hill were well forested, but the neck was treeless. The slopes of Lizard Hill, like most of the hills in the area, were bare, a testament to the erosion-prone terrain. A small trench ran half the length of the body just below the ridgeline with the road bisecting it, and it was on that trench that the Federation focused their efforts. At the sound of a whistle, eight thousand Federation soldiers poured out of the trees and ran down the hillside and into the valley. Across the valley, the Lanoirians watched anxiously as the valley began filling with red uniforms.

Tzu-chan was the best archer under the command of Colonel Wu-sang, and he had been chosen to start the defense of Lizard Hill. None of the other Lanoirians would fire their arrows until Tzu-chan had fired one first. From the center of the long trench, Tzu-chan watched the approaching horde without emotion. As the Zarans spread out in the valley and approached the base of Lizard Hill’s slope, Tzu-chan strung his bow and pulled a handful of arrows out of his quiver. He calmly planted the arrows on the top of the trench wall and chose one to start the defense. He mechanically nocked the arrow as he watched the enemy’s progress. When the first of the Zaran invaders reached the limit of Tzu-chan’s range, the Lanoirian archer pulled back his arrow and let it fly. The arrow sailed downward and caught a Zaran firmly in the chest, the red-clad soldier falling backward and tumbling down the hill into those charging up the hill behind him. Within seconds, hundreds of arrows flew from the trench and rained down upon the Federation soldiers. The red-clad bodies flowed down the slope just like the mud did in the rainy season, but the Zarans were too numerous. The Federation soldiers leaped over the bodies tumbling down the hillside and continued their assault up the side of the hill. Within mere minutes, it became obvious that the Zarans would easily overrun the Lanoirian trench. There were just too many of them for the Lanoirians to keep them at bay.

“From the ends,” shouted Tzu-chan. “Now!”

From each end of the trench works, a Lanoirian archer unstrung his bow and hurried towards the center. When the two men reached Tzu-chan, they dropped to their knees. One of them entered the small tunnel, while the other waited his turn.