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Suddenly, screams came from not far away from the premer. Doralin turned and saw a krul, his long hair burning rapidly. Soldiers tried to push away from the beast, but they could not, so they drew their swords and attacked it, trying to drive its body out of the crowd. Some of the soldiers’ uniforms caught on fire and pandemonium ripped through the tight crowd. Seconds later another krul burst into flames.

“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.”

Chapter 10

Not According to Plan

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.”