Alutar: The Great Demon (8 page)

The five Aertans looked at one another as if there was something they wished to avoid saying. Finally, one of them glanced at the Spinoan sergeant.

“Look, we are just on our way home to Giza and want a decent meal for a change. Let us eat in peace.”

The sergeant was not about to back off. “Are you deserters?” scowled the sergeant. “Is that why you are afraid to talk about it?”

One of the Aertans rose and faced the sergeant, his face a mask of outrage, but one of the other Aertans rose and eased his countryman back to his seat.

“What’s the story?” demanded the sergeant. “We have a right to know when our mates are coming back home.”

“Then ask your general,” snapped the outraged Aertan. “Go ask him why your mates aren’t coming home, and leave us in peace.”

Gasps flooded from the mouths of the soldiers gathered in the common room as they began to get the feeling that something had gone wrong in Alcea. A corporal eased his way past the sergeant and sat next to one of the Aertans.

“Don’t be angry with us,” the corporal said softly. “We only want to know how things are going over there. Wouldn’t you want to know if you were in our place?”

The outraged Aertan shouted, “No!”

One of the other Aertans sighed heavily and looked the corporal in the face. “Don’t mind him. The sergeant made a mistake even hinting that we were deserters. We are anything but. The truth is, we were assigned as personal guards for General Stemple. Our task was to get the general to safety when the battle went the wrong way. There were ten us originally, but we are the only ones who made it back.”

“It went bad enough to retreat?” asked the corporal.

“Retreat?” echoed the Aertan. “It was more like a rout. We ran into hundreds of dwarves. They were invincible. Our arrows couldn’t pierce their armor, and our swords couldn’t get close enough to strike them. They waded into our ranks with those huge battleaxes and just cut men down like stalks of grain. We never stood a chance.”

“So you ran?” taunted the sergeant. “You cowards ran from the face of the enemy?”

The outraged Aertan leaped to his feet and picked the sergeant off the floor with one hand. “Coward?” he shouted as he tossed the sergeant across the room. “I am no coward. I’ll take every one of you on right here, right now.”

The sergeant bounced off a table and tumbled to the floor. The Aertan started towards the Spinoan soldiers standing around the common room, but the Spinoans backed away. Two of the other Aertans rose and grabbed their friend and dragged him back to the table as the sergeant picked himself up off the floor.

“Don’t taunt him,” pleaded one of the calmer Aertans. “He had very close friends in the 15
^th
Corps with Team Pontek. They were wiped out to the man. The dwarves didn’t let a single man from that team survive.”

The innkeeper moved to the Aertan table and leaned down to speak softly. “The food and ale is on me, lads, but you better get yourselves out of here quickly. That sergeant just slipped out, and I suspect he is coming back with some friends. You will end up in cells for sure if that happens. Get home to your families.”

The Aertans grimly nodded their thanks to the innkeeper and rose. The Spinoan soldiers allowed the Aertans a wide berth as the five men slipped out the door and mounted up. Within minutes they were heading north along the coastal road towards Giza. As soon as they were out of sight of the city, they turned into the forest and dismounted, changing out of the Federation uniforms.

“You played that pretty rough back there,” one Alcean Ranger said to the one who had pretended to be outraged. “We nearly ended up in jail, and I don’t think our stories would have held up all that well. Someone in Valdo must know that the portals are no longer working.”

“Perhaps,” chuckled the outraged Ranger, “but it sure was fun. I noticed that the sergeant calling us cowards sure left the common room in a hurry. I never even had the chance to hit him.”

“Well, I am glad you had fun, but we were supposed to hit more than one inn while we were in Valdo.”

“There was no need,” grinned the outraged Ranger. “By nightfall the whole city will be talking about it. We accomplished our mission just fine.”

There were no forests along the Coastal Highway between Farmin and Giza. Fields of grain stretched inland from the road as far as one could see. On the other side of the road was the shoreline of the Sea of Tears. In places the shoreline was merely a narrow strip of sand, and in other places it was wide enough to host small villages. Travelers would often camp along the shores of the sea, so anyone riding along the road this night would not have given much thought to the campfire with eight people gathered around it. Even if someone did take particular notice of the group, they would find it hard to believe that the camp held eight of the most powerful mages in all of Zara. Three of the men appeared very old, as did one of the women. There were also two younger men and one younger woman. The only person who appeared out of place was the young female elf, and she would not be noticed unless a passerby was making a rather close inspection of the group. Even then, while it might not be quite normal for an elf to travel with humans, it was not unheard of, either.

“Where are we heading, Fakir Aziz?” asked Dorforun, a dwarven mage who appeared similar to Theos, thanks to an illusion held by Valera. “You speak little of our future travels.”

Fakir Aziz sat across the campfire shaping a staff out of a piece of black wood. He looked up and blinked as he saw the face of Theos, as if it took a moment to remember that a dwarf sat behind the illusion. He let out a slight sigh.

“Our path is not yet clear, Dorforun,” stated the Mage, “but even if it were, I would not speak of it.” He gazed around at all of the questioning eyes staring at him, and he sighed again. “I know all of you have inquisitive minds, and your curiosity is surely peaked by my secrecy, but you need to remember the nature of our adversary. The Great Demon has the ability to hear and see many things in ways that your minds cannot comprehend. I will tell you what you need to know when you need to know it. You must have faith in me.”

The dwarf nodded and the others lowered their eyes to stare into the fire. Fakir Aziz sighed heavily as if the weight of holding all of his thoughts secret was pressing down on him. He also lowered his gaze, but not to the fire. He sat staring at the broad ring of sand around the campfire, and he suddenly smiled. With an imperceptible twitch of his hand, a small dust devil arose in the sand. It was a tiny thing and not worthy of notice, but the Mage slowly widened the funnel to encompass the entire area between the mages and the fire ring. At the same time, he lowered its height until it was just skimming the ground. The sands near the feet of the mages began to flow in a clockwise rotation, although it was too weak in areas where the fire blocked the view of the Mage.

The other mages took notice as sand began to dust over their feet. Zynor, the old Zaroccan hermit, sat across the fire from Fakir Aziz, and he smiled at the game the Mage was playing. With a flick of his wrist, he began helping the spell in the area before him where it was weakest. The sudden magical help caused Kalmar’s feet to become covered in sand, and Valera laughed when she saw Kalmar’s face register annoyance. The Koroccan healer shot a glare at Valera, but her joy was contagious. He soon was laughing also as he joined in the spell and sent the pile of sand that covered his feet towards Valera. The Vinaforan bookworm was ready for the act of revenge. She deftly joined the spell and kept the sand moving in a circle. Within minutes, all of the mages were helping in sending the sand around and around.

Fakir Aziz smiled as he observed the group of mages laughing like children. At first the exercise resulted in contests to see who could pile the most sand at the feet of another, but the nature of the mages soon demanded perfection, and they voluntarily focused on working together to create a seamless whirlpool of sand. The Mage suddenly abandoned his participation in the exercise, but his loss was quickly adjusted to by the other mages. Fakir Aziz rose and left the circle. He walked down to the shore of the Sea of Tears and removed his boots. He waded into the surf and squatted, lettings his hands feel the salt water. He closed his eyes, and a few minutes later, he sighed deeply. The time for confrontation was fast approaching.

* * * *

General Forshire rose from the bunk opposite Colonel Donil and paced around the floor of the small barracks on the grounds of the Imperial Palace in Despair. He mulled over what he and Donil had been talking about but his mind was distracted by thoughts of the coming confrontation.

“Have I failed you, General Forshire?” asked Colonel Donil.

Clint stopped his pacing and turned to face the A Corps colonel. “No, Donil, you have done as I requested. If you had been more aggressive in ferreting out their secrets, you would have destroyed your position here, and I am not ready for you to abandon this post. I am troubled by other thoughts, not your reports. Go to sleep. I will go sit on the bench so as not to disturb you with my pacing.”

General Forshire left the barracks and made his way towards the Sea of Tears. The moon was high, and he glanced across the grounds of the Imperial Palace and saw the huge tent that Colonel Donil had described. He pondered its purpose as he made his way to his favorite bench, but the mystery of the tent soon faded to other more pressing thoughts. He sat on the bench and stared out at the darkness of the Sea of Tears as he tried to formulate his plans.

“Do you sleep on this bench now?” a soft voice asked. “Has Donil thrown you out of the barracks?”

Clint shook his head at the sound of the intrusion. He was not sure how long he had been sitting and thinking, but he berated himself for being caught unawares. He turned and looked up at Colonel Taerin.

“And has Kyrga locked you out of your room in the Palace?” Clint quipped with a slight smile. “It is unlike you to traipse around the grounds at night.”

Colonel Taerin sighed and nodded as he sat on the bench next to General Forshire. “I sleep little these days. I had not heard that you had arrived in Despair.”

“Nor will you,” admitted Clint. “I just stopped by to speak with Donil. I will be gone before morning.”

“Then you did not plan to seek me out?” frowned Colonel Taerin. “Not even to gloat over your victories in Alcea?”

Clint stiffened. He stared into the colonel’s eyes and asked, ”How do you know about the war in Alcea?”

“So it is true,” sighed Colonel Taerin. “I have only managed to pick up rumors and small snippets of hushed conversations. Emperor Jaar and Grand General Kyrga have been livid the past few days. What happened over there?”

“The Alceans won every battle,” answered Clint. “We have taken 175,000 prisoners. The rest of the Federation forces are dead. I am afraid that the Baroukans were hit especially hard. The vast majority of the dead came from Baroukan teams. Fortella, Franz, Kolling, and Gattas are dead, as are four generals from other countries.”

“And the Alcean losses?” asked the Baroukan colonel. “Were they severe?”

“They were severe,” answered Clint. “Over 11,000 good men died because of the Federation’s lust and greed.”

“Only 11,000?” gasped the colonel.

Clint glared at the colonel, and Taerin realized that he had been offensive.

“I apologize,” Colonel Taerin said quickly. “I did not mean to say that your losses were insignificant, but I am amazed at the enormity of the differences in losses between the two sides.”

“Then you continue to underestimate your enemy,” snapped Clint.

“Ease up, General,” Colonel Taerin said. “I am not your enemy. I only learned of Alcea during the celebration. I am certainly not one of those who advocated the invasion of your homeland.”

“Nor did you try to stop it,” Clint retorted angrily.

“Stop it?” balked Taerin. “You misunderstand my position in the scheme of things, General. You may know me as the heir to the throne of Barouk, but to others I am nothing more than a colonel in the Federation army. I have no more power to influence policy than Colonel Donil does.”

Clint sighed and nodded, but he remained irritable. He looked the colonel in the eye and said, “You have a choice to make, Taerin. You can either be a Baroukan or a Federation colonel. It will not be possible to be both.”

The colonel’s brow creased in confusion as he mulled over the general’s words. It was obvious that Forshire’s word held a great distinction between Barouk and the Federation, but the colonel could not see the separation.

“What do you mean, General? Barouk is part of the Federation.”

“Not for much longer, Taerin,” Clint replied tersely.

Colonel Taerin sighed and nodded his head. Suddenly, the general’s words began to make sense. The Alceans did not consider their victory in Alcea to be the end of the matter. War was coming to Zara.

“You are the only person outside of my family who knows my true destiny, General. I will always be Baroukan first and foremost, but I have little control over my station in life at this time. If I were to make waves at this juncture, I would be quickly reassigned to some remote outpost, and I must not let that happen. I must remain in the Imperial Palace until I learn the truth about my father.”

“I am not asking you to seize the palace,” Clint replied in a calmer voice, “but I am warning you that you have a decision to make. As for your father, I am positive that he is dead. I spoke to a mage who is familiar with such dark magic. There is a spell called Reflecting Pool that allows a mage to steal another’s identity.”

“Can you prove that?” asked the colonel.

“There are only two ways to view the true identity of the mage,” answered Clint. “Get him to cast a spell, or kill him. In both cases, the illusion will shatter.”

“I will not allow Jaar to be killed to test your theory,” scowled the colonel. “I may not like the way the emperor is leading his people, but such an assassination would be despicable.”

“While I do not agree with your last statement, I have no plans to kill your father. How did the emperor find out about the results of the invasion? The portals were all shut down before the battles were fought. No word should have reached Despair.”