Richard Tuttle - 13 Day War

For a brief moment, Ly-fung thought about that decision and wondered if he had made the right choice. His thoughts were interrupted by one of the men crawling out of the tunnel that extended to the trench. Unlike the other men who had come through the tunnel, this man called for help to roll a large boulder into the mouth of the tunnel. Ly-fung dropped his bow and ran forward to aid the man. Together they pushed the boulder into place, sealing off the tunnel. Ly-fung returned to his station and picked up his bow.

“It will begin now,” he said softly to the men gathered near him. “Get ready.”

It was an unnecessary command. Each Lanoirian already stood prepared for the coming onslaught. Within minutes, the distant cries of pain and death died out, an eerie stillness taking hold over the forest. Ly-fung nocked an arrow and stared through the branches of the abatis, searching for the first of the Zarans to crest the hill. He did not have to wait long.

The red-clad soldier came into view as he scrambled over the crest and stood staring in confusion at the abatis before him. Ly-fung let his arrow fly between the branches of the abatis. His aim was true, and the arrow plowed into the Zaran’s chest. The Zaran screamed as his body pitched backward, but the sound of his scream was soon drowned out by a multitude of gasps and shouts as other Federation soldiers crested the hill and saw the bulwarks before them. Hundreds of Lanoirian arrows flew through the air, and the screams of the Zarans roared through the forest. Some of the Lanoirians shouted cheers as a whole line of Federation soldiers fell, but their enthusiasm was premature. Arrows began flying into the protected area, and Lanoirians began to fall.

Ly-fung saw the heads of Federation soldiers popping up along the crest and understood what was happening. “They are firing from below the crest!” he shouted. “Take cover!”

Ly-fung immediately followed his own advice and slid behind a tree. He nocked another arrow and moved into the open just long enough to select a target and let his arrow fly. He ducked back behind the tree wondering if his arrow had flown true. He had not stayed in the open long enough to verify his kill, and the air was so full of cries from men on both sides of the fight that listening for the cry of a particular victim was impossible. Ly-fung pushed the question from his mind as he nocked another arrow.

For the next hour, Ly-fung stepped into the deadly hail of arrows as quickly as he could nock his arrows and let them fly. He just as quickly ducked back behind the tree. There was no lack of targets as the Federation soldiers moved in closer and began hacking at the branches of the abatis in an attempt to break through the barrier. A shiver of fear raced up the Lanoirian’s spine. If the enemy succeeded in getting through the abatis, the end would come quickly for the Lanoirians. He reached for another arrow and found his quiver empty.

“Ly-fung,” called a soft, feminine voice that carried through the chaotic sounds like the clear pealing of a bell.

The Lanoirian archer turned and saw Rut-ki. The Knight of Alcea was dressed completely in black, and she was pulling her own quiver from her shoulder. She tossed the quiver to Ly-fung and retreated to the safety of a large tree. Ly-fung caught the quiver and nodded thanks to Rut-ki. He set the quiver down and stripped off his empty one before pulling hers over his head. As he turned once again to thank the Knight of Alcea, he saw Rut-ki break from the safety of her tree and race across the open ground. When he saw her fall next to the slain body of a comrade, he grimaced in horror, thinking an enemy arrow had hit her, but his mourning was premature. Rut-ki quickly sliced through the strap of the fallen man’s quiver before grabbing it and racing back to her tree. Ly-fung sighed with relief as he nocked an arrow to continue the fight.

It was not long after getting his new quiver that Ly-fung noticed arrows coming from another direction. One of them struck his tree slightly above his head, and the Lanoirian archer dropped to a squat. The Federation soldiers had managed to work their way around the edge of the barricade to the north, and Ly-fung had no doubt that the same would be true in the south. Although the abatis was still intact, the protected area was quickly growing smaller. He looked for a tree nearer the center that was not already occupied by a defender. He could not see one. When he turned towards Rut-ki, she waved for him to join her. Ly-fung did not hesitate. He picked up his empty quiver and raced across the open ground. Rut-ki made room for him behind her tree, but he could not imagine both of them seeking protection behind the same tree. Neither of them would be completely covered from enemy fire. When he arrived, he handed Rut-ki the empty quiver so that she would have something to hold her arrows.

“Thank you, Ly-fung,” the Knight of Alcea said calmly as she took the arrows from her liberated quiver and filled the empty one.

“I thank you, Rut-ki,” he replied, “both for the arrows and the safety of your tree, but I cannot stay here. There is not room for both of us.”

“The trunk is yours,” she replied with a smile as she pulled the full quiver over her head and positioned it. “I will take the upper limbs.”

“You will be seen,” Ly-fung said with alarm.

“Perhaps,” replied Rut-ki, “but can the Zarans reach such a height from beyond the abatis? We shall see.”

Without another word, the Knight of Alcea leaped upwards and snared a branch with her hands. She quickly pulled herself up and began climbing higher. Ly-fung followed her progress with awe and then realized from the enemy shouts that she had been seen. He quickly nocked an arrow and leaned around the tree to let it fly, but he did not immediately retreat to safety. With a defiant shout, he called attention to himself to distract the enemy from targeting the Knight of Alcea. It almost cost him his life. Three arrows slammed into the tree near his head, and Ly-fung dropped to the ground and crawled behind the tree.

As the day wore on, Ly-fung began to feel the strain of constantly firing arrows. His hands, arms, and shoulders ached from the simple task of pulling the bowstring back and letting it go. Sweat poured from his body from the exertion of leaping out to fire an arrow and leaping back to the protection of the tree. Twice he had had to scamper to the body of a fallen comrade to replenish his arrow supply, and he was out once again. He placed his back against the tree and slid down to sit upon the ground as his eyes scanned the area for another quiver of arrows. The simple act of resting for a moment made him realize how sore he was. He flexed his fingers wondering how many arrows he had sent into the enemy ranks, and his thoughts suddenly turned to the Knight of Alcea. Rut-ki had ascended the tree with a single quiver, and she had not returned for more arrows. He looked upward and saw Rut-ki descending the tree. She leaped from a low branch and landed next to him. He saw her empty quiver and blushed with embarrassment. He had not thought of resupplying her as she had done for him.

“I apologize,” he said softly. “I should have sent arrows up to you.”

“You could not,” Rut-ki said with a slight smile. “I was too high in the tree. I used my arrows sparingly, targeting only the officers. I think it has helped to keep the enemy confused and without direction.”

“What does it look like from up there?”

“It does not look good,” she replied candidly. “The Zarans are hacking away at the abatis from all four sides, and there are not enough of us left to do much about it.”

Ly-fung nodded silently. He had seen the mounting bodies of his comrades in the area around him, but he had not been sure if it was the same throughout the protected area. He sighed with despair. Colonel Wu-sang had told them that they would not survive the battle, so Ly-fung could hardly complain about his coming death, but he had hoped that their stand would last more than just a few hours.