Army of the Dead (3 page)

“Let the men enjoy their last night on Motanga,” shrugged the premer. “The ale will run out before too long in any event. The voyage is long enough that no one will arrive for battle in a drunken stupor.”

“My men certainly won’t,” retorted the general. “I have placed the inns off limits to my army.”

“Good,” the premer smiled mischievously as he looked at the hard-nosed general. “I have a task for them. I want you to organize the loading of the ships. There are a hundred ships already in the harbor. You will begin loading them at sundown. Make the process simple and quick. Once a ship is loaded, it is to sail out of the harbor to make room for another. I have two hundred ships off the coast waiting to get in.”

“My men can handle that efficiently,” declared the general. “Why are we waiting for sundown?”

“Just a precaution,” answered Doralin. “If there are spies on the island, they will not see the ships depart. I have been using the same technique with the supply ships to Duran, but the movement of this many ships is bound to be noticed. But by then we will be well on our way,” he added with a grin. “It is never wise to let the enemy know that you are coming.”

“So the loading must be accomplished before daybreak,” nodded the general. “We can do that. I will start organizing it now.”

The premer merely nodded as the general left the roof. He turned and continued to gaze with admiration on the largest army ever to be assembled. His chest swelled with pride as he noted that it was his army that would strike the first blow on the mainland.

* * *

When Emperor Marak entered his office, the mage Ophia was waiting for him, which was highly irregular.

“Here or the roof?” the Emperor asked without preamble.

“Better on the roof,” answered Ophia. “The messages are coming fast and furiously.”

“Brief me on the way,” nodded the Torak as he left the office and headed for the roof.

“First was a message from Rykoma,” Ophia explained. “Hundreds of Vand’s ships are missing from the Island of Darkness. They must have set sail during the night.”

“Hundreds?” frowned the emperor. “Can you be more specific?”

“Not really,” Ophia shook her head. “I asked the same question. All that he would say is that yesterday the harbor of one of the cities was crammed with ships. The coastline was also crowded with ships at anchor. This morning there were none. The harbors of the other three cities are still crowded with ships.”

“Assuming that they divided the ships evenly,” Marak speculated, “that would be around two hundred and fifty ships. Of course, they may not be divided evenly. Any idea where they are heading?”

“None,” replied Ophia as they reached the roof. “There was also a message from Rhoda at Raven’s Point. Several attempts to talk to you, actually. She refused to state a message. I don’t think she trusts me.”

“Don’t take it personally,” replied Marak. “Contact her now. She is dealing with some sensitive issues and was told to speak to me directly. I don’t want anything lost in the process of getting the information secondhand.”

“I understand,” nodded Ophia as she connected with Rhoda.

“What do you have for me, Rhoda?” asked the Torak.

“It has begun,” replied Rhoda. “Premer Doralin has left Teramar for the mainland.”

“Anything on the destination?” asked Marak. “Or the strength?”

“Nothing on the destination,” answered Rhoda, “but our source was willing to speculate. The suggestion was made that since Teramar is a southern city, and it was the point of departure, the Sakova would be a likely bet, but that is wholly conjecture. As for the strength, the number three hundred thousand was mentioned. They are searching for more information.”

“They?” questioned Emperor Marak.

“He has help now,” replied Rhoda. “I should not say more. Fisher is aware of it.”

“That is good enough for me,” replied the emperor. “Stay in position, Rhoda. I may need to contact you, and I may not be here when that happens.”

“I will be here,” agreed Rhoda as Emperor Marak signaled for Ophia to drop the air tunnel.

“Weave an air tunnel to Angragar,” Emperor Marak instructed Ophia. “Tell Rejji to contact Myka. I will be there within the hour.”

Ophia nodded and started creating the air tunnel. Emperor Marak wove his own air tunnel to StarCity and asked to speak to Lyra. The Star of Sakova responded promptly.

“It is happening,” Emperor Marak declared. “No word on the destination yet, but I suspect it is Alamar.”

“Are you sure it is not another test?” asked Lyra. “Perhaps an attack on Zaramilden?”

“Not this time,” replied the Torak. “Three hundred thousand are currently sailing towards us. This will be a test, but not the type you were thinking about.”

“Merciful Kaltara!” gasped the Star of Sakova. “We are not ready for this. That many men will walk right over Alamar. That is almost a third of their entire force heading for one city. I was hoping that the information we sent to them would cause them to send a smaller force.”

“Perhaps this is the smaller force,” sighed Emperor Marak. “We don’t have enough information about their strategy. Get your skimmers into the water immediately.”

“I am ordering it as we speak,” replied Lyra.

Marak could hear the other mages in the background issuing orders and alerting the forces. He was torn over whether or not to activate the skimmers from Angragar. If the attacks were indeed aimed at Alamar, the skimmers from Angragar would be useless. Worse, he would have revealed their existence. Yet if the attacks were aimed more to the north, they would be essential.

“I have to get aloft,” declared Emperor Marak. “You need to be in contact with someone in StarCity at all times. I will be posting mages on the roof here day and night, but I will be elsewhere. Also bear in mind that these communications are not necessarily secure any more. Anything revealing must be communicated in another way.”

“I understand,” replied the Star of Sakova. “I am heading for Alamar, but this palace will be manned all of the time.”

“Is it wise for you to go to Alamar?” asked the Torak.

“I must,” answered Lyra. “It is the only point of contact with the enemy that we can be assured of. After Alamar falls, a lot depends upon Vand’s strategy, and we don’t know what that is.”

“Stay in StarCity,” commanded the Torak. “I will be with you shortly. I can get you to Alamar faster than a choka.”

Lyra frowned as she wondered how Marak could accomplish that, but she agreed to wait for him. The Torak dropped the air tunnel and dashed from the roof.

Marak had bundled himself in a heavy cloak, but the cold air still ripped at his body. His exposed fingers felt numb, and he could no longer feel his ears. The wind tore by at a rate faster than he had ever experienced before. Marak glanced down at the clouds below him. Small patches of the sea were sometimes visible, but Marak worried that they would not find the hidden armada.

“Perhaps we should fly lower?” suggested the Torak. “I don’t want to miss Vand’s ships.”

“We will miss nothing,” Myka snorted. “Ships are much slower than I am. What takes them days to cover, I can do in hours. When we reach the area where it might be possible to find them, I will go lower and slower.”

“I hope it will be warmer then,” quipped the Torak. “It is freezing up here.”

“And I thought you were half Chula?” retorted Myka. “The cold air is refreshing. It will invigorate your body.”

“If my body ever thaws,” replied Marak.

They flew on in silence for a while before Marak felt Myka slowing down. The clouds rushed up past him as he gazed downward. Suddenly the clouds disappeared as the dragon descended out of them. There was nothing below them but deep blue water.

“Did you see anything?” asked the Torak.

“Not yet,” answered Myka. “Have faith in your winged warrior, Torak. We will find them.”

The dragon rose into the clouds again and picked up speed. Every so often the dragon would dip below the clouds for a quick look around. Finally, Marak saw the armada, and it was massive. Hundreds of ships bobbed upon the ocean like a large school of tiny fish. The sails spread out to the far horizon.

“Merciful Kaltara!” exclaimed the Torak. “I cannot imagine trying to repel such a force. Where are the skimmers?”

“I do not see them,” answered Myka, “but they are much smaller. We might have to go lower to see them.”

“No,” Marak quickly responded. “I am not ready for Vand to know about you. There is nothing but water out here. How can we tell where they are heading?”

“Their destination is no secret to me,” replied the dragon. “They are heading due west. Unless they change course drastically, they will end up at Alamar.”

“Can you tell me when?” asked Emperor Marak.

The dragon was silent for a moment and then rose up into the clouds.

“Tomorrow night is a decent estimate,” Myka said. “Whether they will start the attack at night or not, I cannot tell. Certainly by the morning after, though. I can come back tomorrow to check up on them.”

“I think that will be necessary,” replied the Torak. “I would like Lyra’s people as rested and prepared as possible. The more we know about the hour of their attack, the better off we will be.”

“Do you want to search for the skimmers or head for StarCity?” asked the winged warrior.

“StarCity,” Marak replied after some thought. “It is hard for me to judge distances up here, but I don’t think the skimmers could be anywhere close yet. They were hidden far upstream in the Sakova. Just the journey down the river would take a fair bit of time. I hope they reach the sea before the invasion starts.”

“Sounds like you could have used more notice of the attack,” stated Myka. “Surprises are always costly.”

“We have spies on the island,” shrugged Marak, “but even they cannot see in the dark. Any suggestions?”

Myka did not answer, and Torak and the winged warrior flew on in silence. When they reached the coast of the Sakova, Myka dropped below the clouds again, although she kept a high enough altitude to avoid being identified. Marak looked down at what appeared to be a tiny city, but he knew better. He saw something south of the city that he could not identify. He asked the dragon to drop lower.

As the size of Alamar grew, more detail was visible. South of the city, the road was clogged with wagons and pedestrians fleeing the city. Ships of all sizes were leaving the port and following the coastline to the south.

“They are evacuating the civilians,” remarked the dragon. “I hope that road is not required to bring in reinforcements.”

“It will not be needed,” replied the Torak. “We should see the bulk of the Sakovan armies between here and StarCity.”

Indeed, a few moments later the first of the hidden armies came into view. They were clearly visible from the air as long as the dragon was passing over the sevemore forests, but once they reached the groves of fargi trees, the ground was no longer visible. It was impossible to tell what was hidden beneath the giant trees.

As the dragon soared over the mountains, the clouds gave way to bright sunshine. Marak went from feeling cold to perspiring as the hot sun bore down on him. Of course the lower altitude added to his warmth. Myka had come into the mountains low and seemed to be delighting in banking from valley to valley. As the sides of the mountains flew by fairly close to his head, Marak drew his knife and jammed it into the hole in Myka’s scale so that he had something to hang onto.

“Wimp,” chortled the dragon as she banked so steeply that Marak felt his leg lifting off the dragon’s back.

Marak laughed after he caught his breath. The laugh died in his throat as Myka headed straight into a mountain and then suddenly turned upward just in the nick of time. Marak held the knife with both hands as he felt his seat separate from the dragon’s scales.

“Enough,” pleaded the Torak when he could speak. “I prefer to die in battle where I at least have a chance.”

“You must learn how to fly, Torak,” taunted the dragon as she reached the peak of the mountain and immediately tilted to soar down the other side. “Learn to anticipate my moves and balance your body without the need to hang on. When we fly into battle, you will need both of your hands on the hilt of your sword.”

“Fly into battle?” echoed the Torak. “What do you mean?”

Myka snorted and smoke blew out of her nostrils. “Do you think I am just something to ride so that you can enjoy the scenery?” she quipped. “I am a winged warrior. Have you not figured out what my specialty is?”

“I am to fly you into battle?” gasped the Torak.

“So,” chortled the dragon, “you are not so stupid after all. I guess the elven princess was mistaken.”

“What did she say?” Marak asked indignantly. “Which one was it?”

Myka snickered and soared upward again, rising along the face of a snowcapped peak. She flew over the peak and headed down again. Marak saw that they had just entered the valley of StarCity. The Sakovans shouted and pointed at the dragon as Myka soared low over the streets of the city. The people scattered before the flying behemoth, and Myka cackled joyfully.

“Into each life a little levity must fall,” quipped Myka as she glided to a halt atop the palace.

Palace guards raced to surround the dragon, but they halted when they saw Emperor Marak sliding off the dragon’s back.

“Which princess said I was stupid?” frowned Marak. “What did she say?”

“I don’t know what you are talking about,” Myka said innocently. “I wonder if that last bank loosened something upstairs, if you know what I mean.”

Myka chuckled and winked at the Torak. Marak tried to act stern, but he realized that he was being toyed with. He started laughing just as the Star of Sakova arrived.

“I am glad that you can find humor in this situation,” frowned Lyra, “but I cannot. My people are about to start dying. I find no humor in that.”

“It was my fault,” apologized Myka. “I thought some humor would ease the tension of the situation.”

“Ease the tension?” echoed the Star of Sakova. “Does that include soaring into StarCity and terrorizing my people? You are very fortunate that my archers did not pepper you with arrows on your flight here. I am not sure what kind of sauce would go good with a giant lizard.”