Army of the Dead (16 page)

“Kill the kruls,” shouted a general. “Kill them before they burn us all.”

Doralin tried to cancel the order, but the soldiers had heard what they had wanted to hear. The orders soared through the long crowd of soldiers faster than the raging flames. Not only had the soldiers heard the orders, but so had the kruls. In the midst of the firestorm, the Motangan soldiers and the kruls attacked one another. The soldiers had difficulty drawing their swords and using them effectively in such a packed environment, but the kruls had no such limitations.

Premer Doralin watched in anger as scores of soldiers were thrown into the flames outside the firebreak. He shouted for the fighting to stop as he watched kruls burst into flames and surge deeper into the crowd.

“It is too late to stop it,” General Valatosa declared loudly alongside the premer. “You cannot negotiate with a crazed krul. Once they heard the order to attack them, the fight was joined to the death.”

“I could live with the loss of the kruls,” scowled Doralin, “but if this is happening for the whole length of my army, I will lose thousands of men.”

“You will lose much more than that,” frowned General Valatosa. “The armies that we told to evacuate to the plains will never make it alive. The fire is spreading too quickly. We are now but a fraction of the force sent to conquer the Sakova.”

“The Sakovans will pay dearly for this,” vowed Premer Doralin. “If all that I have left is a hundred thousand men, I will still sweep this country free of all life. As soon as the fire is gone, we march out of here in pursuit of the Sakovans.”

“The men will be tired,” warned the general. “Do not push them too hard.”

“We are all tired,” snarled Doralin. “We are tired of dying to these Sakovan tricks. All I want is a chance at a fair fight. If we get that, the Sakovan race will be extinct.”

“I understand your anger, Premer,” General Valatosa said softly, “but do not let these Sakovans get under your skin.”

The premer glared at the general, but he soon sighed and nodded.

“You are right, Valatosa,” admitted Doralin. “I am letting them get the best of me. We will still march forward as soon as the fires die. The men can sleep when night comes again. I have no delusions that we will reach the Sakovans this day, but tomorrow brings a new chance.”

Lord Rybak stood in the predawn fog at Raven’s Point. The sea was not visible in the dense, unnatural fog, but the Situ lord knew that an armada was just offshore. On his right stood Rhoda, and on his left was Polema. Lord Rybak looked questioningly at Rhoda.

“I can hear them lowering small boats and getting into them,” reported Rhoda. “Their voices are soft and muted. I suspect the soldiers already know their assignments.”

“Can you tell how far offshore the large ships are?” asked Lord Rybak.

“The closest is about three hundred paces away,” answered Rhoda. “They appear to be spread out along the coast.”

“Pass that range on to the catapults, Polema,” instructed Lord Rybak. “They are to fire as soon as they can see their target. Let me know when all of the catapults are set for that range.”

Polema nodded and began moving her air tunnel from catapult to catapult. Rhoda continued to move her air tunnel across the sea, listening to the enemy’s preparations.

“Small boats have been told to push off,” reported Rhoda. “They are coming in.”

Lord Rybak called softly to two soldiers who were standing nearby. The soldiers nodded and started running in opposite directions to inform the archers that the battle was about to begin.

“The catapults are all ready,” reported Polema. “Should I instruct the men to dump the oil?”

“Yes,” nodded Lord Rybak. “Tell them to hurry. It sounds like the Motangans are holding the fog in place longer than they did at Duran. I do not want to be surprised. Rhoda, inform the mage corps to prepare.”

The minutes dragged by slowly as Lord Rybak stared into the fog. He could sense the sky lightening with a new dawn, but the fog still obscured everything.

Suddenly, a great wind roared in from the sea, blowing the fog away. Lord Rybak stared out at hundreds of Motangan behemoths spread out as far as he could see. Hundreds of small boats were already loaded and rowing their way to shore through the oil-slicked water of the harbor.

Scores of Khadoran catapults fired simultaneously from the shore, sending great balls of fire screaming through the air. Dozens of the leviathans took hits in the initial barrage, and most of those started burning. Flaming arrows soared towards the small boats rowing ashore. Although most of the arrows fell short of their targets, the oil in the harbor ignited. The soldiers in the small boats panicked as the flames spread towards them. The small boats turned around and headed for the open sea, but the flames followed faster than the men could row. Screams filled the air as Motangan soldiers started burning to death. Some of the men jumped overboard, hoping to stay underwater long enough to swim free of the fire, but it was a losing proposition.

The catapults from the Motangan ships fired, even as the Motangans raced around to put out the fires onboard their ships. Khadoran water mages cast spells to drive the burning oil further offshore, and soon the nearest behemoths were floating in a sea of fire.

“Their line of ships is longer than we anticipated,” frowned Rhoda as she listened to an air tunnel. “They are landing troops far to the north. We have no catapults that far along the coast.”

“Notify Lord Saycher,” instructed Lord Rybak. “The Morgar armies will have to deal with it. What about to our south?”

“Nothing down there,” replied Rhoda as she swung her air tunnel to the mansion of the Morgar estate to deliver Lord Rybak’s message.

The flames upon the surface of the sea winked out, and Lord Rybak stared in wonder as more behemoths sailed forward from the rear of the armada.

“Their mages have extinguished the flames,” declared Polema. “I am not sure how they could do that, but they obviously have knowledge that we do not.”

“Can our sun mages burn their ships?” asked Lord Rybak.

“Not that far out,” Polema shook her head. “If they come in closer we may have a chance at it, but utilizing the sun to burn such a large vessel would take time. I do not think it is practical. By the time we get the ships burning, they will have already been unloaded into small boats.”

Lightning bolts suddenly pierced the sky and slammed into the Khadoran catapults. Lord Rybak looked on in horror as half a dozen catapults near him exploded in a shower of wooden splinters. Every soldier for several paces around each catapult was instantly killed. Even as the sight was being seared into Lord Rybak’s mind, another round of lightning bolts struck at the catapults further along the beach.

“More small boats coming in,” pointed Rhoda. “We cannot depend upon the oil in the water this time.”

Lord Rybak watched in horror as he witnessed his well-prepared defenses disintegrate. He sighed heavily as the air mages waited impatiently for his orders.

“Give the orders to torch the fields,” Lord Rybak snapped. “Have the cavalry mount and prepare to guard our retreat.”

“We are retreating?” frowned Polema. “At least let the mages attempt to defeat them.”

“We are preparing for our retreat,” corrected Lord Rybak. “We will use everything we have to slow the Motangans down, but I have no illusions about defeating them here at Raven’s Point. Pass my orders along and then notify the mages to attack at will. When it is time to retreat, we will not have the luxury of calm communications.”

Polema nodded and utilized an air tunnel to pass Lord Rybak’s orders to the units.

“It is not going as expected, is it?” asked Rhoda.

“No, it isn’t,” admitted Lord Rybak. “I had expected to hold off their landing until late in the day. Our soldiers are well trained in night fighting, and the men know this terrain well from our training. We could have inflicted some serious harm to their armies.”

“Perhaps the mages can still stall them long enough to help,” suggested Rhoda.

“Not likely,” frowned Lord Rybak. “There are just too many of them. The mages will kill a few of them, but it will not slow them down. I want you to get a horse and get out of here immediately.”

“I am needed to coordinate our efforts,” objected Rhoda. “I am staying as long as you stay.”

“You are needed to maintain contact with Aakuta,” declared Lord Rybak. “Polema can handle things here. Go now and ride swiftly. Make your way to Khadoratung.”

“You fear the worst is about to befall us,” frowned Rhoda. “All is not lost.”

“The Motangans landing to our north will soon cut off our path of retreat,” sighed Lord Rybak. “If Lord Saycher has as many opponents as we do, his forces will not be able to contain the Motangans. The coastland of Khadora is falling into the enemy’s hands. Mount up and ride out. That is an order.”

Rhoda stared defiantly at Lord Rybak for a moment, but she could tell that he was unrelenting. Eventually she nodded and retreated to find a horse. Polema watched her fellow mage depart. She dropped the air tunnel, having notified everyone of Lord Rybak’s orders.

“You think we are all going to die here today?” she asked the Situ lord.

“A good many men will die here today,” Lord Rybak said softly, “but I will do my best to preserve those that I can. “You will lead the mages in retreat when the time comes. Do not be fearful.”

“I am not afraid to die,” responded Polema. “It’s funny in a way. When I was a slave, you would think that I would have embraced death to flee from bondage, but I was very afraid to die. Now that Emperor Marak has made me a free woman, I should fear death even more because I finally have something to lose, but I do not fear it. I truly believe in Khadora now, and I know that we will prevail against this evil. If the cost of that success is my own life, I will give it freely.”

Lord Rybak smiled thinly at the mage and nodded his head. “Your feelings could have come from my own heart,” he said softly. “While I was never a slave, my life was owned by the lords of Khadora just the same as yours was. Marak changed everything for me. I will not let these invaders take away what we have made in Khadora. We will defeat them, but not here, and not today.”

Screams from the harbor demanded Lord Rybak’s attention, and he gazed at the hundreds of small boats heading for the shore. Thousands of objects flew through the air as the Khadoran mages sent them soaring towards the invaders. Rocks, tools, and even long logs were magically propelled at the small boats. The boats slowed as the projectiles struck the invaders. That is when the Khadoran archers opened fire. Thousands of arrows streamed seaward, while lightning bolts continued to ravage the shore batteries.

“At least the Motangans are going to pay a price to land at Raven’s Point,” Lord Rybak said as he watched his last catapult blown to splinters. “Get me an update from Lord Saycher.”

While Polema wove an air tunnel to the neighboring Morgar estate, Lord Rybak watched the Motangan mages change targets. With the Khadoran catapults destroyed, Vand’s mages sought out the Khadoran mages. Lord Rybak winced as he saw a group of Khadoran mages disintegrated by a flash of lightning.

“Lord Saycher is being overrun,” reported Polema. “He cannot hold them back. He requests permission to retreat.”

Lord Rybak watched another group of mages destroyed. He nodded slowly.

“He may retreat,” Lord Rybak said, “but he is to delay the Motangan advance as long as possible. I think the Motangan strategy is to cut off the defenders of Raven’s Point. He must buy us a little time, but he may retreat when it is hopeless.”

Polema passed the orders to Lord Saycher. Lord Rybak watched another group of mages destroyed, and he bared his teeth in rage.

“Get our mages out of here now,” he snapped at Polema. “We cannot afford to lose them all. We will need them in the forests.”

Lord Rybak turned from Polema and quickly surveyed the battlefield. When he saw Polema out of the corner of his eye, he turned to stare at her.

“I gave you an order,” frowned Lord Rybak. “Why are you still here?”

“Your order is being carried out,” Polema retorted. “You cannot command your forces without my aid. I am staying to help communicate the retreat.”

Lord Rybak opened his mouth to argue, but Polema’s gaze was defiant. He sighed and nodded.

“Very well,” Lord Rybak said. “I want all infantry other than the archers to retreat after the mages. Tell them to hurry. There is not much time left.”

“Done,” Polema reported moments later. “What happens next?”

“The archers will be next to retreat,” explained the Situ lord. “That will happen after the rest of the infantry is gone, or the Motangans threaten to overrun our positions, whichever comes first. Advise them to be ready for a swift retreat. Also notify the cavalry of all orders. They are our last line of defense. Their time for battle is soon upon them.”

* * *

StarWind and Goral stood upon a small rise in the Sakovan heartland. StarWind removed her sheath and handed it to the Sakovan giant. He took the sword and draped its sheath strap over his shoulder. He watched silently as the Sakovan spymaster pulled on a black cloak and adjusted it. She frowned and immediately pulled it off and tossed it to the ground. StarWind picked up the other black cloak and tried it on.

“It is a good thing we got two of their mages,” she commented as she adjusted the cloak. The shoulders in that last one were much too large for me.”

“You should rethink this idea of yours,” Goral cautioned softly. “Just because it worked yesterday is no reason to push your luck to the edge. What knowledge can you possibly hope to gain?”

“That we will not know until I have procured the information,” shrugged StarWind as she smiled tautly at her friend. “I understand your concerns, Goral, but this is what I do. I cannot ask anyone else to infiltrate the enemy camp.”

“You sneak into Omungan cities and discover their secrets,” frowned Goral. “This is not the same. There are hundreds of thousands of these Motangans. Wasn’t yesterday’s penetration enough to dissuade you?”