Richard Tuttle - 13 Day War

“I will see to it,” replied Colonel Dorfan.

“I also need forty-eight of your men to go to Alcea,” continued the general. “I want two men to travel each of the proposed routes and check to make sure that our supplies have not been tampered with. We are moving a lot of men through these portals in a very short timeframe. If we need to replenish supplies, I want to know about it now before the armies start arriving.”

“Why two men, Sir?”

“We can afford to lose a few men to get this information,” answered the general, “but it is information that we must have. I want two men sent on each route so that we are sure of getting the information. Instruct each team to use the proper procedures for verifying a hidden cache. That way if some of the men do come to harm, we will still get what we need.”

“You are expecting trouble?” frowned the colonel. “We have never felt the need to double up before.”

“We are on the verge of war, Colonel. Of course I expect trouble. Even if the enemy is totally unaware of our coming, things always seem to get hairy when time is short. I plan to take no chances with this invasion. The 1 stCorps will ensure that nothing goes wrong on this end until the very last army returns home. Is that clear?”

The colonel nodded, but his brow creased with concern. Tauman and Dorfan had worked together for years, and the general immediately noticed the concern.

“Speak your mind, Dorfan.”

“I know you were planning on us being part of the invasion of Alcea, General. Why have we ended up being caretakers of this valley while a war is being waged?”

The general looked towards the door and the windows before speaking. “Because Grand General Kyrga is a poor excuse for an officer,” the general said softly and with evident disgust in his voice. “The 1 stCorps is the finest fighting unit in the world, and that fool has us acting as quartermasters. He says that he is afraid to entrust the secrecy of the portals to any other unit, but the portals are no longer secret. I should have been in charge of Force Targa.”

“But Kyrga chose Fortella instead?”

“Of course,” spat the general. “Fortella has charmed Kyrga, and the Grand General has made him his most favored general. The truth is, Dorfan, we could have sacked Tagaret in a most impressive manner and brought the boy king to kneel in disgrace before the emperor, and that is the real problem. I suspect that Kyrga fears that the emperor would make me Grand General when we returned victorious.”

“You think Fortella will fail?”

The general thought for a moment and shook his head. “Fortella is a decent general, but he is not a quick thinker. He is like a bulldog that has his teeth dug into your leg. He won’t let go until you are dead. His army will sack Tagaret without a problem. That is probably why they teamed that coward Whitman up with him. Fortella is probably one of the few generals who can keep Whitman in line.”

“The Aertan general?” questioned the colonel. “I have never met him.”

“More to your credit,” scoffed General Tauman. “I am surprised that Whitman didn’t figure out a way to be exempted from going to Alcea. The man doesn’t deserve to wear a uniform. Fortella will have to spend some time watching Whitman just to make sure he doesn’t desert.”

“Maybe you could make a deal with General Whitman,” suggested Colonel Dorfan. “Switch the 1st Corps with the 24 thCorps.”

“And serve under Fortella?” balked General Tauman. “I think not. The 1 stCorps will get a chance to fight the horse countries. That will have to do. Enough of this talk, Colonel. You have a great deal to accomplish and little time to get it all done. Get those runners out onto Blood Highway and those scouts sent to Alcea. This war is starting in mere days.”

* * * *

The Blood Highway was a wide road, and little stone markers were set alongside it every league. The markers showed the number of leagues from the western gates of Valdo, and General Montero watched this particular marker pass with interest. He turned and glanced back at his 15 thCorps behind him and then looked forward at the tail end of the 13 thCorps barely visible in the distance.

“How are we doing, Colonel?” the general asked.

The colonel pulled a map from his pouch and consulted it. “Right on schedule. We have another four hours before camp.”

“Keep them moving, Colonel,” instructed General Montero. “As long as the 13 thCorps doesn’t falter, keep them in sight. If they do falter, bypass them, and don’t let General Ruppert give you any guff about it. I am taking a squad out for a ride in the Dark Forest. I will meet you at the camp before morning.”

The colonel saluted and then nodded knowingly as the general turned off the road and called for his personal squad to assemble. Whenever the 15 thCorps got near this area of the Federation, the general always left the column to visit his brother. Everyone knew about the sickly prince, but no one mentioned Prince Harold. His name was never spoken within range of the general’s hearing, not if you wanted to stay in the good graces of General Montero.

The squad formed around the general and headed into the forest. Several hours later, they approached a large castle upon the hill. Shouts rang out from the wall, and the Royal Family Pennant was raised to welcome the Crown Prince of Ertak. General Montero let his eyes gaze up at the ramparts. The soldiers of the castle stood proudly visible, knowing that the heir was arriving. He nodded with approval. Captain Ergard was waiting in the courtyard for the general, as he usually was, but General Montero sensed a certain nervousness in the officer that had never been present before. The general said nothing as he dismounted and let his horse be led away. The captain saluted and then led the general into the sitting room as was customary.

“I have ordered a meal to be prepared for you and your men,” stated Captain Ergard. “Will you be spending the night?”

“No,” answered the general. “How is my brother?”

“He has not gotten any worse than he was on your last visit,” answered the captain.

“Nor any better?”

“I have noticed no change.”

The general stared into the captain’s eyes, trying to determine what it was that the captain was afraid to say, but he could determine nothing.

“Bring him down,” ordered the general.

The captain started sweating profusely. Most of the visits by General Montero were just to speak with the captain and discuss the health of Prince Harold. It was rare for the general to actually see his brother, and he had never before ordered the sickly prince to descend out of the tower.

“I do not think it is wise to ask the prince to make such a journey,” the captain said nervously.

“Why not?” the general asked sternly. “What are you not telling me, Ergard?”

The captain swallowed hard as his eyes widened in fear. He thought he would be able to act calmly when the general visited, but it was obvious that General Montero knew something was amiss. Delaying the truth could only make things worse.

“Prince Harold is not here,” the captain answered meekly. “The king sent soldiers to take him to be healed.”

The general’s hand moved so swiftly that the blow took the captain by surprise. He stumbled backwards and collided with a chair. Both the chair and the captain tumbled to the floor. When the captain rolled over to get back to his feet, there was a sword extended towards him, and the tip moved towards his throat.

“This had better be an amusing story,” spat the general. “I am not in a kindly mood.”

“A colonel from the 11 thCorps arrived with a full regiment,” the captain replied in a quaking voice. “He had orders from the king to have the prince inspected by a black-cloak. I resisted at first, but it was made clear to me that the king’s wishes would not be denied. I still tried to arrest the colonel, but the mage attacked me. That is when the colonel explained the situation in clearer terms.”