Army of the Dead (65 page)

“Why are we camping here?” asked StarWind. “There is time to make more progress today.”

“We are ahead of schedule,” answered the assassin. “I promised that our detour to the west would not slow us down. Now you know that I was correct. We are but a half-day’s ride to Lake Jabul.”

“I still don’t understand why we came so far to the west,” frowned Lyra. “From the maps we looked at in Meliban, we could have been in Vandegar already.”

“We would also have been seen approaching the ancient temple,” replied HawkShadow. “The forests have not completely recovered in Fakara, but if we follow the Jabul River, we can reach all the way to Lake Jabul using the concealment of the trees.”

“HawkShadow is correct,” interjected Temiker. “The Motangan maps that we looked at in Meliban are poor. While they depicted most natural features of the land, they did not include the changes that the Chula mages have made in their attempts to rejuvenate the land of Fakara.”

“And how did you know this, HawkShadow?” questioned StarWind.

“I am just clever,” grinned the assassin.

“Actually,” Temiker interjected, “I spoke with Angragar. I asked them for the safest approach to Vandegar, and they detailed the route that we should take.”

StarWind shot HawkShadow a piercing glare, and Lyra laughed as the assassin tried to appear innocent of any wrongdoing.

“You could have told me, HawkShadow,” StarWind said accusingly. “Why the mystery surrounding our route?”

“That is my fault,” Temiker said in an attempt to forestall the bickering. “Yltar was not entirely sure how much the forests had grown this far to the west of Angragar, but he thought that following the Jabul River offered the safest route. I asked HawkShadow not to depend upon natural cover for the entire trip.”

“This is not a subject that I wish to waste words on,” declared the Star of Sakova, putting an end to the conversation. “The only question I have regarding our route is what do we do when we reach the south end of Lake Jabul. Surely there will be no cover for our journey around the lake, and we are only five hundred strong.”

“We will not proceed any farther than the end of the forest,” answered HawkShadow.

“We will not press on to the ancient temple?” frowned Lyra.

“No,” HawkShadow replied. “The Sakovans came to this land to destroy the garrison at Meliban. That was the task that the Torak requested of us. We have accomplished our mission. Our journey to Vandegar is to give aid to our allies in the final battle. I think the best way that we can accomplish that is to remain hidden until we can determine where we can be of help.”

“An excellent plan,” stated StarWind. After a short pause to allow her husband a few moments of gloating, she continued, “However, the Star of Sakova must join with the Torak and the Astor to defeat Vand and Dobuk. While our tiny forces may not be decisive in the coming battle, we cannot simple hide and wait to see what happens. The five hundred Sakovans around us are merely the escort of the Star of Sakova. We are to get her safely to the ancient temple at Vandegar.”

“A valid point, HawkShadow,” sighed Temiker. “We did not consider that in our plans.”

The assassin had a pained expression as StarWind’s words struck him like a smith’s hammer.

“It is a long way around the lake,” HawkShadow eventually said, “and our presence will be obvious to all if we are riding our warbirds, but there is no time left to find an alternate route.”

The Star of Sakova stepped away from the group as her three closest advisors continued to discuss the best way of reaching the temple. She found an isolated spot in the woods and wove an air tunnel to the palace at Khadoratung.

“This is the Star of Sakova,” Lyra said after an air mage had accepted her air tunnel. “I must speak with the Torak immediately.”

Within moments she heard the voice of Marak.

“Be careful what you say,” warned the Torak. “We cannot trust the safety of the air tunnel at this late stage.”

“I understand,” replied Lyra, “but we have a problem. Our primary task is complete, and we have traveled far from that port city. Our problem now is one of the best approach to our next target. Do you remember the day that you showed me the skimmers in Fakara?”

“A day that I will never forget,” Marak smiled as he remembered the lake outside of Angragar where the secret skimmers had been built.

“We are in a similar position today,” continued Lyra. “It is a beautiful place somewhat reminiscent of the Sakova, but not for long. We are unsure how best to proceed from this point.”

The Torak put the clues together and realized that the Sakovans were in the forest south of the lake.

“I think you have progressed far enough for now,” replied Marak. “There is no certainty of what is to greet us, and I would not wish for you to be involved in the early stages. Let’s wait to see what develops.”

“Just sit and wait?” frowned the Star of Sakova.

“Do not make it sound like a punishment,” chuckled the Torak. “In fact, some old friends will be joining you shortly.”

“Friends?” questioned Lyra.

“Certainly an old friend of HawkShadow’s,” grinned Marak. “Some of her new friends will be with her, too, not to mention my relatives and some of their relatives.”

“Now that is exciting,” Lyra brightened. “Is this by chance?”

“Kaltara never leaves much to chance,” chuckled Marak. “Sit tight, Lyra. He will guide you. I have to go.”

“I love you, Torak,” Lyra said quickly before the air tunnel was dropped.

“I will love you forever, Lyra,” Marak said and then the air tunnel was gone.

Lyra’s face was aglow when she returned to HawkShadow, StarWind, and Temiker. Her three advisors halted their conversation and stared at the Star of Sakova as she approached.

“Are you alright?” asked StarWind.

“I have never felt better,” beamed Lyra. “HawkShadow, notify our sentries that we will have visitors soon. Warn them not to be too quick with their weapons. The visitors are friendly.”

“Friendly?” echoed the Sakovan assassin. “Who is coming, and how do you know about it?”

“The elves and Chula will be joining us,” declared Lyra. “Marak says that we should remain in the forest until we see how things go in the initial skirmish.”

“You used an air tunnel?” gasped StarWind. “You do know that Vand may have the ability to intercept such communications, don’t you?”

“Of course I know,” replied Lyra, “but Marak and I share many memories that are not common knowledge. Nothing was said that would give our enemy any comfort.”

“The same way that Rhodella and I used to be able to talk in front of people and not have them understand what we were saying,” smiled Temiker.

“So it turns out that we are exactly where we should be,” HawkShadow said with an air of triumph.

“Kaltara watches over us,” nodded Lyra. “Warn those sentries, HawkShadow. We do not want casualties among our friends.”

Fisher walked through the Motangan encampment towards the ancient temple. He avoided everyone along his path, but he kept his ears open to pick up whatever information was available. Mostly what he heard were the rumblings of an army preparing for battle. There were rumors and boasting, but most of the talk was typical of men trying to hide their fear of the coming combat. The spy could almost feel sympathy for the Motangan soldiers, but he knew that these men were determined to kill his friends and anyone else who dared to object to the rule of Emperor Vand. The Khadoran spy reached the temple and mounted the stairs to the large doors leading inside. Two Motangan soldiers stationed at the doors stopped him.

“What business do you have inside?” demanded one of the guards.

“I must report to Premer Tzargo,” lied Fisher.

“Report to your section commander,” the guard shook his head. “You have no business inside the temple.”

The heads of nearby soldiers swiveled towards the confrontation. It was probably a scene that was played out numerous times over the course of a single day, but Fisher loathed being the center of attention. He also knew that if he failed to gain entry on the first attempt, he would never get in. The guards would grow more suspicious each time he returned to try again. Fisher’s body stiffened and grew rigid as he stepped closer to the guard.

“I was told to keep watch on the eastern perimeter and report any abnormalities directly to Premer Tzargo,” Fisher said as forcefully as he could. “If I am not permitted to perform my duties, I will make sure that both of you are listed as the reason for my failure.”

The guard stepped back a pace from the verbal assault, but he still gazed at Fisher with suspicion. Many soldiers tried to gain entrance to the temple merely to get out of the sun, and he had strict orders to admit only those with permission.

“The eastern perimeter?” balked the guard. “The attack is coming from the west.”

The other guard stepped forward and appraised Fisher with a keen eye.

“What group are you with?” he asked.

“I am with Premer Cardijja,” declared Fisher. “I brought a message to Premer Tzargo last month and have since been assigned to watch the eastern perimeter. I am currently staying with Savesto’s group.”

“I know Savesto,” the second guard said cautiously. “He is indeed on the eastern perimeter. He likes to stay as far away from the temple as possible. He’s not a very personable fellow.”

“No, he isn’t,” Fisher agreed harshly, “but he has never interfered with my mission either. Are you going to step aside, or do I have to summon an officer to report that you feel the need to override Premer Tzargo’s orders?”

“I still don’t get it,” frowned the first guard. “There should be nothing to report to the east. What is it that you have seen that is so important?”

“What I have to report,” Fisher seethed with feigned hostility, “I will report to Premer Tzargo as ordered, not to a door guard with an over inflated opinion of his own importance.”

The first guard stiffened at the rebuke, but the second guard chuckled.

“Ouch,” quipped the second guard. “Those are fighting words. Why don’t you let him pass before the two of you end up on the injured list?”

The first guard turned and glared at his companion. “I suppose you will merely stand by and watch?” he asked his partner.

“If the man wants shade bad enough to fight you for it,” shrugged the second guard, “I am not getting involved. Besides, there is a fair chance that his story is true. I am not about to offer myself up for a grievance with the Premer. Let him by.”

The first guard turned and glared at Fisher again, but his stance softened.

“We will ask Premer Tzargo about your mission later,” he warned Fisher. “If you lied to us, we will see you hanged for it. Get moving.”

Fisher wasn’t sure from the man’s words if he was being dismissed or admitted to the temple, but he knew where he needed to go. He walked past the guard and opened the door, half expecting a sword to be thrust into his back. He breathed a sigh of relief as the door closed behind him. As for the man’s promise to interrogate the Premer, Fisher recognized that as mere bravado. No door guard would dare to admit that he had let someone into the temple that he was unsure of.

Fisher moved away from the door in almost total blindness. The gloomy interior was like total darkness compared to the blazing sun outside. He waited a few minutes to let his eyes adjust to gloom and then moved cautiously towards the interior. For the next couple of hours, the spy roamed around the interior of the palace, his ears constantly straining to pick up snippets of conversation. While there was talk about the coming battle, he learned nothing startling. No battle strategies were openly discussed, and he heard nothing to indicate that the Motangans were aware of any approaching force other than the Khadorans. He began to feel as if the visit to the temple had been a waste of time, but there was one major item on his list that he had not yet accomplished.

Fisher made his way to the top of the stairs. The top level of the temple was the location of the throne room, and a large contingent of soldiers stood between the two staircases. Fisher knew that he would never gain entrance to the throne room to verify that Vand was indeed there, but the top level also led to the roof of the temple, and it was there that Fisher wanted to go.

The Khadoran spy turned away from the throne room and moved along a corridor where the sunshine was streaming in from the far end. He shielded his eyes from the brilliant sun as he stepped out onto the roof. Squinting as he surveyed the roof, he saw no one. The roof of the temple was a vast flat area broken only by the small section of the temple in the center that rose slightly higher. Once out the doorway, Fisher turned to the north and headed for the edge of the roof.

He halted at the edge and stared into the distance at the ancient city of Vandegar. As his eyes became accustomed to the brightness, the spy saw movement in the ancient city. His mouth fell open and his eyes twitched as he watched skeleton-like figures moving about. There were untold thousands of the creatures, and Fisher felt a shiver race up his spine. He found it hard to believe what he was watching, a whole city infested with dead warriors, but warriors that weren’t quite dead, for the dead did not walk around and carry swords. The Khadoran spy instantly knew that it was urgent to get word of this discovery back to the Astor.

“What are you doing out here?” demanded a voice of authority. “This area is strictly forbidden.”

Fisher turned slowly and saw a Motangan officer standing a mere pace away. The officer held his sword ready as he glared at Fisher.

“I got lost,” Fisher shrugged nervously.

“And you will remain lost forever,” the officer snarled as he raised his sword.

“Wait,” pleaded Fisher. “I am not really lost. I heard about the ancient city of Vandegar. I just had to see what we are fighting for. Spare me this one time. Please.”

“Only the god Vand can spare you from my wrath,” snapped the officer as his sword began to swing towards Fisher’s neck, “and he will have to do it in your next life.”

Fisher dropped to the floor as the sword swung over his head. The spy landed on his rump and promptly swiveled his body, using his feet to sweep the officer’s legs out from under him. The officer fell to the floor, and Fisher leaped upon the man’s body, a knife sliding from its arm sheath into his hand. Even as Fisher drove the knife deep into the officer’s heart, he knew that he was caught. Beyond the body of the officer, Fisher saw a pair of feet approaching rapidly. The feet protruded out of a black cloak, and Fisher’s eyes rose to see a Motangan mage approaching. The mage’s hand darted out before him, and the spy knew that a spell was about to be cast. Fisher rolled frantically away from the dead officer in a futile attempt to avoid the magical spell. He heard the air sizzle at the unleashing of the magical spell and waited for the pain to envelope his body.