Richard Tuttle - 13 Day War

The colonel was almost at the valley when distant movement caught his attention. He looked beyond the vanguard cavalry and saw four riders squared off. He knew that General Omirro stood in the center of the four riders. That was standard practice whenever the fight was brought to the general, but the movement he detected was not normal. He frowned as he watched two of the riders fall from their horses. His frown gave way to raw rage as he saw a man step out of the forest and swing his staff. The staff tore through horse and rider in a spray of blood, and Colonel Verle shuddered with revulsion.

“They are after the general!” the colonel shouted at the top of his lungs. “Rally to Omirro! Rally to Omirro!”

The fourth rider fell from his horse as a young woman stepped out of the forest. The man with the staff swung again, and Colonel Verle’s teeth bit through his lip as he watched the staff connect with General Omirro’s neck. The general’s head flew through the air and the woman raced after it. The colonel dug his spurs into his horse in an attempt to gain revenge by killing the Sordoan couple, but chaos claimed the battlefield.

The Sordoan horsemen turned on the vanguard cavalry and engaged them, but not fully. It was as if the Sordoans hit them just hard enough to stiffen their resolve and then they turned and fled. At the same time, a fifth horn blared, but it was far in the distance, well past the center of the column. Some of the horsemen that the colonel was leading gave chase to the fleeing Sordoans while others tried to turn around and respond to the new attack. Colonel Verle ignored both and tried to race towards the attack on General Omirro, but the vanguard cavalry had closed ranks to repel the Sordoans, and they refused to yield to him.

“General Omirro has been attacked you fools!” the colonel shouted. “Get out of my way!”

The vanguard cavalry immediately parted, but it was already too late. The colonel ordered men into the forest to search for the assassins, but they were never found. Colonel Verle halted the column and ordered a report of the casualties. When the report arrived, General Barbone arrived with it. The Spinoan general glanced at the headless corpse of General Omirro and shook his head with disgust.

“How did this happen?” he asked.

“Two assassins must have been waiting in the woods,” answered the colonel. “I think the attacks were meant to draw off his protection so that they could strike.”

“The attacks were meant for much more than a mere diversion,” replied General Barbone. “The 10 thCorps has suffered severe damage. There were seven attacks in all.”

“I heard the horns,” spat Colonel Verle. “No loss can be measured against the loss of General Omirro.”

“Omirro was just a man,” stated General Barbone, “the same as you and I. I know that you had a close relationship with him, but thousands of your men have died this day. Do not treat their deaths as inconsequential.”

“Thousands?” frowned Colonel Verle. “I only saw hundreds of bodies.”

“There were no horsemen to repel the Sordoans at the last three attacks,” replied General Barbone. “Our famed infantry line of defense is rather ineffective against the Sordoans’ reliance on horse bows. Our losses were great. Where is Omirro’s head?”

“The woman took it,” the colonel replied distractedly.

“Woman?” asked the general.

The colonel frowned and nodded, but he did not answer. The general waited patiently.

“I have seen her before,” the colonel finally said. “Both of them in fact, but I cannot place where it was.”

“We have met few Sordoans on this trip,” stated the general. “Perhaps you saw them last fall when you were here? Maybe you shared a campsite with them?”

The colonel shook his head. “I remember each person we met clearly, and they were not among them.”

“Well, it hardly matters at this stage,” shrugged the general. “We need to get this column reorganized. I will be taking over as the leader of Team Caldar, but I am going to need your help holding the 10 thCorps together. Your men are shaken up, Colonel, and you have lost a fair number of officers. I would like your recommendations for promotions to fill the ranks.”

“It was in Aerta!” exclaimed the colonel. “I saw them both in Aerta over a year ago. General Omirro and I shared a meal with them on the shores of the Sea of Tears. That is where I saw them. They said that they were merchants.”

“Over a year ago?” echoed the general. “Are you sure?”

“I am certain,” asserted the colonel. “They claimed to be Tyronians, but how can that be?”

General Barbone stared at the body of General Omirro and sighed with weariness. “Did the man use a staff? And was the woman’s belt holding many knives?”

“You know them?” the colonel asked while nodding.

“They are Knights of Alcea,” answered the general. “You have just verified what they have told me, but you have also told me more than they did. That you saw them in Aerta over a year ago tells me that they have known about this invasion a lot longer than we have known about it. You and I and two-hundred-forty-thousand other Federation soldiers are on a fool’s mission, Colonel. We have been sent to Alcea to die.”

“I do not understand,” frowned the colonel.

“Nor do I completely,” admitted the general, “but we will let the Alceans explain it to us. Put out a flag of truce. We need to talk to Governor Mobami.”

“A truce?” balked the colonel. “For what purpose?”

“To negotiate the terms for our surrender,” answered General Barbone.

“Surrender?” the colonel echoed, his voice rising with incredulity.

“If the terms are favorable,” replied the general. “Team Pontek and Team Gortha no longer exist. I know that General Omirro thought the Sordoans were lying, but they have already proven that to me. The 10 thCorps is in tatters, leaving only the 22 ndCorps to stand against the enemy. In addition to the horsemen plaguing this column, Trekum is defended by thousands of elves and dwarves. We are incapable of winning, Colonel, but even if there were a chance of success, we have been sent here to die, and I will not sacrifice my men for Emperor Jaar or any of the dark masters that he bows to. Enough Ertakan and Spinoan blood has already stained these lands. Put out the flag of truce.”

* * * *

The ten colonels of the 2 ndCorps of the Empire of Barouk faced off against the ten colonels of the 24 thCorps of Aerta. No one had drawn his sword yet, but the mood in the camp was tense. Behind the two groups of colonels the members of the two armies stood, warily eyeing up each other. At the center of it all, Colonel Hershey stood toe-to-toe with Colonel Tamora.

“You need to get your men under control, Hershey,” scowled the Baroukan colonel. “We are here to fight the Alceans not each other.”

“That might have been true before,” spat the Aertan colonel, “but the death of General Whitman changes everything. We mean to have the assassin hung, and we won’t take no for an answer.”

“Point him out,” challenged Colonel Tamora. “We don’t care much for assassins in the empire. And while you are at it, how about we hang General Fortella’s assassin?”

“What does Fortella’s death have to do with us?” scoffed Colonel Hershey.

“The assassin was seen entering Whitman’s tent,” retorted Colonel Tamora. “Even your own guards admit to that. How is it that he did not kill Whitman? Could it be because he worked for Whitman?”

“That is absurd,” countered Colonel Hershey. “Why would General Whitman want Fortella dead?”

“To seize control of Team Mya,” answered Colonel Tamora. “That is exactly what he did, isn’t it?”