As the sun rose over Duranga, King Arik and his advisors met in the common room of a deserted inn.
“What have the fairies reported, Prince Midge?” asked the king.
“Colonel Tamora leads the men of the 2nd Corps of Barouk,” answered the fairy prince. “They are moving on Tagaret as we speak. Colonel Hershey leads the Aertans of the 24th Corps. While they are also moving towards Tagaret, they appear to be operating separately from the Baroukans. The two armies are separated by at least a league.”
“They have had a falling out,” mused Alex. “I am not surprised.”
“Do you think they will band together to fight against us?” asked Mitar Vidson.
“That would be most unfortunate,” frowned Alex. “I think we should plan to attack them separately, but only one league of separation will make things rather difficult. We would have to gain a quick surrender from the 2nd Corps and disarm all of the men before the 24th Corps arrived. Should we fail to do that, they will most certainly join together, and the battlefield would be too chaotic for our purposes.”
“Colonel Tamora could stall indefinitely during negotiations,” frowned David Jaynes. “All he has to do is keep the flag of truce flying long enough. He knows that we will not attack him under such circumstances. He would also be aware of the 24th Corps coming along behind him. I don’t see how we can accomplish this. Maybe we should attack the 24th Corps from behind and then deal with the 2nd Corps.”
“No,” King Arik said forcefully. “The 24th Corps is more likely to surrender than the 2nd Corps. If we are to do battle this day, it will be against Colonel Tamora and his Baroukans. Colonel Tamora and his men must fall.”
“You plan to fight them?” questioned Mitar Vidson.
“I do,” the king affirmed. “I would rather fight ten-thousand men than chance a fight against twenty-thousand men. The 2nd Corps must be destroyed, and it must be destroyed quickly. When the 24th Corps arrives at the battlefield, I want them to know that continuing this war would be fruitless. I will demand their surrender at that point.”
“Our men will be exhausted by the time we get there,” frowned David Jaynes. “That is supposing that we can even get to them before they reach Tagaret. Even if we left this very moment, I doubt that we would arrive in time to stop them from reaching the walls of Tagaret.”
“The Red Swords will not be going, David,” replied the king. “We have only enough unicorns for the Men of Tor and the Rangers. You and the Red Swords will be left here to secure the prisoners from the 7th Corps and the 17th Corps.”
“Two-thousand men against ten-thousand?” questioned Mitar Vidson. “And those two-thousand have been up all night fighting the Battle of Duranga. You are risking much with this plan.”
King Arik nodded. “We do what must be done. May the gods be with us.”
“Prince Garong and the elves of Elderal will also be with us,” interjected Alex. “Perhaps we can also order the Army of the West and the Cordonian Army to accelerate their movement eastward.”
“Prince Garong and his people will be a welcome addition,” stated Queen Tanya, “but the others will not be battle worthy. They are too far behind. If they race to make it to the battle, they will be exhausted.”
“Understood,” countered Alex, “but their arrival would be a powerful inducement for the 24th Corps to surrender. The sight of another twelve-thousand men behind the Aertans will guarantee an immediate surrender. I am confident of that.”
The king nodded and turned towards the fireplace where Prince Midge was holding court on the mantle. The fairy prince was sending and receiving fairy messengers to and from every spot in the kingdom, keeping abreast of the other teams.
“Can the Army of the West arrive in time to be a factor, Prince Midge?” the king asked.
“That depends on where the battle is held,” answered the fairy prince as he held up his hand to forestall a reporting fairy. “They are incapable of reaching Tagaret today, even if they push hard, but if the battle were held further west, the odds would improve greatly.”
“That would give our people less time to prepare for battle,” frowned Mitar Vidson.
“Watling Flats,” Alex said decisively. “It is a half day west of the city. It is the perfect battlefield for what we must do.”
The king nodded solemnly. Watling Flats was the battlefield where King Arik defeated the prophet Azmet and his followers of Abuud. It was the battle that had cost Wylan his sight. The sudden thought of Wylan stirred great emotion in the king’s heart. He wondered how Zalaharic was making out with the healing of Wylan and Sheri.
“General Barbone surrendered Team Caldar yesterday,” Prince Midge announced loudly, “and Bin-lu reports that Rut-ki has managed to devastate Team Barouk. He is anticipating the enemy’s surrender this very morning.”
Shouts of joy filled the common room, but the celebration was short lived.
“That leaves only Team Mya threatening Alcea,” declared the king. “I want this war over today. Alex, you are familiar with Watling Flats. Go there immediately and survey the battlefield. I will be along shortly with the Rangers and the Men of Tor.”
Alexander Tork nodded. “Jenneva will be joining me. May I also take our red-headed friends?”
The king raised an eyebrow at Alex’s request to take the mages with him, but he did not need a lengthy explanation of the reason for the request to answer it. Instead he looked to the queen for her response. Theos was, after all, supposed to be protecting the king.
“I see no problem with that,” answered Queen Tanya. “My magic will be sufficient to protect you here. Give Alex whatever he needs.”
The king nodded, and Alex turned to leave the meeting. Jenneva, Theos and Balamor followed. Without a word, they mounted their unicorns and took to the air. Before they had even risen far, Alex woke Bitsy and sent her on her way to find Prince Garong. An hour later, they landed in the great meadow called Watling Flats. For several moments after they landed, Alex sat on Kaz and gazed around the meadow. Flashes of memories of the Battle of Watling Flats flooded his mind, and he sighed with sadness. It was not a sadness for the outcome of the previous battle, for the Alceans had won a decisive victory, but rather a sadness for the amount of blood that has already been spilled to live in peace. He shook off his emotions and turned Kaz to the east. The others followed.
When he reached the eastern edge of the meadow, Alex continued along the Mya-Tagaret Road for another half league. That half league of road was bordered on both sides by thick forest. He dismounted and stared up at the treetops. The mages had also dismounted and they also stared up, wondering what was going through Alex’s mind.
“How does a tree mine work?” Alex asked softly.
Jenneva raised an eyebrow. Alex had never shown much interest in magic, and she could not remember him ever asking how a spell worked before.
“It is a magical force that swiftly expands the saps within a tree,” answered Balamor. “That rapid expansion of saps blasts apart the fibers of the tree. It all happens so quickly that it results in a large explosion, sending slivers of wood flying in all directions. The upper part of the tree, no longer having anything to rest upon, crashes to the ground.”
“But how is it aimed?” asked Alex. “And what determines the size of the blast?”
“It is an area spell,” answered Jenneva. “The size can be whatever the mage wants it to be, within reason, but there is seldom reason to vary it. As for aiming it, think of it as throwing a stone. If the tree is fairly close, it is hard to miss, but if you choose a tree quite distant, the odds of missing increase. What is going through your mind, Alex?”
“I want to create a barrier of abatis across this road,” answered Alex, “but there is not time for our men to do it. We have only hours before the 2nd Corps will arrive.”
“And you want us to use tree mines to fell the trees?” scoffed Theos. “I don’t think that will work as you expect.”
“I think it might,” Alex responded distractedly as he drew his knife and approached one of the trees.
Alex knelt next to the tree and gazed upward and then looked back at the road. He dug his knife into the bark and cut some of it away. When he was done, an elliptical bare spot appeared on the trunk. He stood up and backed away.
“If one of you could fashion a tree mine to destroy only the portion of the tree that I have exposed,” Alex said, “we will find out if you will make good lumbermen.”
Jenneva grinned. “Alex used to be a lumberman, Theos,” she said. “I think this just might work. Let’s move back and I will give it a try.”
They all moved back and Jenneva cast the spell. A large chunk of the tree exploded outward in a flurry of wooden splinters, but the rest of the trunk remained unscathed. For a moment it looked to the mages as if the spell had failed to achieve their goal, but then the tree groaned loudly and leaned towards the west. They watched in amazement as the large tree crashed to the ground, landing squarely in the center of the road with its uppermost branches facing the west.
“Excellent!” grinned Alex. “I will mark all of the trees I need felled. If the three of you can work together to share the work, we will be done in no time.”
“Why here?” Theos asked with a puzzled expression. “I thought the battle was to be fought in the meadow, and we are over half a league east of that.”
“The 2nd Corps has already lost its cavalry,” explained Alex. “If we account for the loss of their horses and the riders who rode them, this place will mark the location of the vanguard when the tail exits the meadow. The initial attack should occur here. The men will try to rush back into the meadow, but I want them greatly bloodied before that happens. If Prince Garong can accommodate the plan, his elves will be lining both sides of the road between here and the meadow. The Rangers and the Men of Tor will then attack the rear of the column.”
“A devastating attack if you can pull it off,” replied Theos, “but won’t they recognize the ambush for what it is?”
“I hope not,” answered Alex. “We are pressing our luck by pushing the Rangers and the Men of Tor into another battle so soon after last night. As good as they are, no warrior can fight indefinitely without rest. As for recognizing the ambush, there are no warriors alive who are more silent than the elves. I am confident that their presence will not be detected.”
“But the abatis,” frowned Theos. “It will be seen a mile away.”
“Not if Balamor can hide it,” Alex replied with a glance at the mage from Pog.
The illusionist merely nodded.
* * * *
Captain Plaggor was one of the few remaining cavalrymen of the 2nd Corps of the Empire of Barouk. He had narrowly survived the elven ambush that had destroyed the army’s cavalry, and he was not eager to face such an event again. Perhaps because of his harrowing experience, he rode tensely, his eyes constantly scanning the sides of the road, and his ears listening intently to the sounds of the forest. He relaxed somewhat while the column crossed the great meadow called Watling Flats because he could see for a great distance in all directions, but when the trees once again closed in on the road at the eastern edge of the meadow, he grew very anxious.
About a mile from the meadow, a sudden shiver raced down the captain’s spine. He nervously stared into the forest on both sides of the road, but he saw nothing. He also heard nothing, and that lack of sounds worried the captain. He immediately thought of mentioning his concern to Colonel Tamora, but he did not get along well with the colonel, and he did not want to be belittled and called a coward. He hesitated to take action. Moments later, the column halted. The captain rose in his stirrups and gazed forward. His eyes opened wide when he saw the huge abatis stretched across the road. The captain knew what was about to happen.
Captain Plaggor pulled out of the column and turned his horse around. He had just started towards the rear of the column when the shouting began in the vanguard. The captain did not hesitate. He whipped his horse hard and sunk down in the saddle, but the shouts still gained on him, and he heard bow snaps sing out right behind him. Racing along the right side of the road, the captain eased his body to the left, using the body of the horse as a shield against the attackers on the closest side of the road. The first wave of arrows passed him by and the captain watched in horror as the column before him was attacked.
The 2nd Corps was marching along the broad road in six files, and the first wave of arrows decimated the outer files. The men in the center of the road reacted in confusion and panic. Some of the men thought to charge into the woods, hoping to slay their attackers. Others knelt and brought their shields up to create a shield wall, but many of the men merely sought a path of escape. Captain Plaggor continued racing back towards the meadow, but his path was now strewn with bodies and soldiers looking for cover. Men dove out of the way of the horse when they saw it coming, but not all of the soldiers saw the horse. The captain winced as the horse collided with a running soldier and then tripped over a body. A moment later, an arrow plunged into the neck of the horse, and it screamed in agony. The horse went down, and the captain was thrown into a crowd of soldiers. Hitting the ground probably saved the captain from death during the second wave of arrows, but he gave it no thought. He rose as quickly as he could and ran along with the other soldiers who were now racing towards the meadow.
Captain Plaggor never thought he would live to make it to the meadow, but miraculously he did. The infantrymen around him began assembling a shield wall facing east, and as the Federation soldiers continued to pour into the meadow, they joined it. Eventually, no more soldiers came to add to the shield wall. The survivors waited nervously for their attackers to emerge from the woods so they could take revenge for the ambush, but nothing happened. The soldiers of the shield wall began to fidget nervously, wondering what they were supposed to do now. There was no enemy to kill in the meadow, but no one was willing to reenter the forested section of the road. So they knelt and waited.
Suddenly, there was distant movement on the road, and whispered warnings of a coming attack ran through the line of men. Everyone concentrated on the road as whatever was on it came closer at a very fast pace. Within seconds the object began to take shape and gasps of fear rippled through the line. A dragon soared over the road, and on its back sat a man dressed in shining white armor, its golden trim glistening in the sunlight. He held a long, two-handed sword in one hand, but he did not use it as the dragon soared over the shield wall and into the meadow. The soldiers turned to follow the dragon and gasped anew. Up in the sky were thousands of warriors riding on the backs of flying unicorns. The unicorns separated into two flying columns and both of them set down on the meadow to form a large semicircular barrier around the Federation shield wall, blocking any path of escape except the road they had just retreated from. The dragon turned and came close to the shield wall, close enough to see the man’s lips move. The voice when it came was clear and obviously magnified by magic.
“I am King Arik of Alcea,” declared the man on the dragon. “You have violated my borders and I demand your surrender. There is no flag of truce, nor will I accept one. You are to throw down your weapons immediately and walk into the center of the meadow. Failure to do so will result in your immediate death.”
The dragon shot up into the air, and a second one came into view. It held a woman dressed similarly to the king. The men of the shield wall gawked at the flying creatures, but no one threw down his weapon. It was as if no one wanted to be the first to surrender. Even the captain hesitated, and he was more than ready to surrender. As he gazed at the beautiful woman on the dragon, he saw her face darken with anger. Her arm rose and suddenly the sky lit up with lightning. A bolt of lightning slammed into the ground near the center of the shield wall, and the reaction was immediate. The Federation soldiers raced towards the center of the meadow, throwing aside their swords, shields, and bows as they ran. Not a single soldier remained in the shield wall to challenge the King of Alcea.
* * * *
Colonel Hershey frowned as he halted in the meadow and looked at the road ahead. The Mya-Tagaret Road had been broad and well used, but at the eastern edge of the great meadow called Watling Flats, it suddenly stopped. A thick forest grew across the road, blocking further progress towards the Alcean capital.
“Get me a tracker and two scouts,” the Colonel called out, “and order a brief halt to the column.”
The junior officers near the colonel scrambled to carry out his orders. Colonel Hershey dismounted and waited impatiently while he watched the vanguard of the column disperse and settle down on the grass. After what seemed to be a long time, three riders approached the colonel. The colonel knew the men and their capabilities, and he wasted no time in issuing orders to them.
“The road ahead has not been used in years,” the colonel began. “It is overgrown. We must have taken a wrong turn somewhere along the way. One of you scouts head north and the other south. I want to know the best way to proceed to the east from this point without marching this army through a thick forest.” He then turned to the tracker and continued, “I want you to backtrack and see if you can determine where we missed the trail of the 2nd Corps. It may actually be easier to backtrack, but I do not want to waste a lot of time trying to determine that. All of you make haste with your duties. I do not want this army camped here for the entire day.”
The three riders split up and left the colonel. Colonel Hershey sighed with frustration and settled down on the grass to await their return. He had not been anxious to follow Tamora too closely, but neither had he intended to lose him completely. Despite having ten-thousand men under his command, he suddenly felt vulnerable, and he did not like the feeling.
Over an hour later, the tracker returned to the meadow. He galloped across the open area shouting about an impending attack, and soldiers rose to their feet in alarm. The unit commanders began shouting orders to form a shield wall facing west, and men scrambled to get into position. Colonel Hershey rose to his feet even before he was able to hear the words of warning. The sight of his men bracing for battle warned him of the danger, but he shook his head in confusion. He had expected any attack to come from the east, unless the snipers had gathered to attack the rear of the column, but the column was not moving. It made no sense. The colonel waited to hear the report from the tracker. He did not have to wait long.
“The enemy is behind us,” the tracker said in alarm. “There are thousands of them. It is the largest assembly of cavalry that I have ever seen, and they are racing towards us.”
The colonel raised an eyebrow. As most corps in the Federation army had two-thousand riders, the tracker’s words indicated a serious battle was in the offing. He mounted his horse, gazing across the meadow as the 24th Corps formed up in a defensive battle formation. In the distance he could see the enemy start to ride into the meadow. The Alceans turned upon entering Watling Flats, peeling off in both directions to form a line opposing the shield wall. The colonel kicked his horse into motion and rode forward until he was just behind the shield wall. He halted alongside a captain from his own regiment.
“This looks like trouble, Colonel,” the captain said softly. “Any idea where the 2nd Corps is?”
Colonel Hershey glanced right and left, checking the formation of the shield wall. “None,” he replied. “We will have to stand alone.”
“Who are they?” asked the captain. “Half of them do not even wear uniforms. Where did they come from?”
The colonel sighed nervously. “The uniformed ones are the Army of Cordonia. I have no idea who the others are, nor can I fathom what Cordonians are doing in Targa, but there are already enough riders opposing us to cause me considerable concern.”
Sudden shouts from north of the colonel’s position caught his attention. He glanced in that direction and saw men pointing towards the sky. He looked up to see a horde of flying horses coming towards the meadow. On the back of each horse was a warrior dressed in black. He watched in disbelief as the horses landed at the far northern edge of the meadow and formed a battle line. More shouts of alarm from the south caused him to turn away from the spectacle, only to find a repeat performance in the south. The only distinction between the two groups was the lack of uniforms on the flying warriors landing at the south edge of the meadow.
“I don’t believe what I am seeing,” the colonel muttered in awe. “Flying horses?”
“Look again, Colonel,” the captain said. “There are horns upon the heads of those creatures. They are unicorns. I feel like I am dreaming.”
“Then we are dreaming together, Captain,” the colonel responded. “I estimate about one-thousand in each flying group, and ten-thousand riders to the west. Maybe more. This battle is not going to go well for us. The wings on our shield wall will never hold off a charge of a thousand men.”
All of the unicorns had landed, but a dark shadow raced across the meadow, forcing the colonel to look up again. He gasped when he saw the two dragons soaring overhead. They had come out of the east and banked lazily as the riders upon their backs stared down at the battlefield. The colonel turned to watch them as a roar of alarm ripped through the rest of the shield wall. The dragons returned to the east, but a spear shot downward before they disappeared. The spear landed right where the colonel had spent time waiting for reports, and on the end of it was a flag of truce.
“Merciful beast!” exclaimed the captain. “Wake me from this nightmare.”
The colonel said nothing, a claw of fear clutching his chest. He stared at the flag of truce with great apprehension. As the commanding officer of the 24th Corps, it was his duty to respond to it, but there was no enemy representative there. Suddenly, a swath of forest disappeared, and the extension of the Mya-Tagaret Road replaced it. Standing in the middle of the road were four people, two dressed in gleaming white and two in black. They stood ready to parley. Colonel Hershey swallowed hard and reluctantly rode towards them. When he arrived within a dozen paces, the colonel dismounted and walked a few paces further.
“I am King Arik of Alcea,” declared the man in the gleaming white and gold. “I have come to demand your surrender, Colonel Hershey.”
The colonel had figured as much. He was in a poor position to refuse if everything he saw was real, but if the sudden appearance of the road had really been the vanishing of an illusion, might not the rest be an illusion as well? He turned and gazed back across the meadow. He knew nothing of magic. He had no skills to gauge the truth or falseness of what he was seeing.
“You tricked me by concealing this road,” frowned the colonel. “Why am I to trust what else I see?”
King Arik unexpectedly stepped forward. The colonel started as the Alcean king’s hand rose, but he did not react by grabbing for his weapon. He sighed in relief when the king’s hand rested on his shoulder.
“You can believe what you can feel,” the king said softly. “I will give you leave to examine my forces by touch if that is what it takes to end this confrontation. The road was hidden for two reasons. We did not want your army to leave this meadow before I had a chance to seek your surrender. I do not wish to kill your men, Colonel. The 24th Corps is the last of the Federation armies threatening Alcea. There is no reason for your men to die.”
“And the second reason?” asked the colonel.
King Arik removed his hand from the colonel’s shoulder and turned, waving his hand towards the road ahead. Alex, Jenneva, and Queen Tanya stepped to the side of the road so that the colonel’s view was unimpeded.
“I didn’t want your men to have to gaze upon the fate of the 2nd Corps,” the king said solemnly.
Colonel Hershey gazed along the road, which was littered with the dead of the 2nd Corps of the Empire of Barouk. He grimaced in disgust and turned his head away. The colonel turned around and gazed at his army. All of the men were watching him intently, and he shook his head in resignation. Drawing his sword, he held it high over his head and then plunged it into the ground.