“What is it?” the soldier yelled as he abandoned his mug and leaped to his feet.
“Just sound the alarm,” snapped the officer.
The soldier raced to the central campfire and began ringing the bell that hung from a post. Soldiers all over the campsite shouted and began crawling out of their tents. The soldier raced back to the officer’s side.
“Do you think we will be swallowed up in an earthquake?” asked the soldier.
“I do not know what it is,” replied the officer as the ground began to vibrate beneath his feet, “but it is not something to sleep through. It almost sounds like…”
The officer stopped talking and shook his head in disbelief.
“Sounds like what?” prompted the soldier.
“It sounds like horses pounding the plains,” the officer said softly, “but it couldn’t possibly be.”
“Why not?” frowned the soldier. “The Fakarans ride horses. Maybe they are charging towards us.”
“It is too many horses,” the officer shook his head as the dawn began to lighten the sky somewhat. “It sounds like a full mounted army would sound as they galloped past the reviewing stand, but that is because of your closeness to them. I still see nothing out there. It must be something else.”
“It’s not something else,” shouted the soldier as he pointed frantically. “Fakarans!” he yelled to warn the others.
The officer stood frozen for a moment as he stared in disbelief. The charging horses were still quite distant, but they spread from left to right as far as the officer could see.
“Ready archers on the eastern front!” shouted the officer. “We are under attack!”
Shouts tore through the encampment as Motangan soldiers scattered, grabbing their bows and quivers and taking up positions along the eastern perimeter of the camp.
“Ready archers on the western front!” came a distant shout.
“Find that fool and silence him,” the officer snarled to the soldier beside him. “The last thing we need right now is confusion. I will not tolerate a man in my service that doesn’t know east from west.”
The soldier turned and raced towards the voice that was still calling for archers to guard the western front. He zeroed in on another officer and raced towards him.
“The enemy is coming from the east,” panted the soldier as he slid to a halt next to the officer. “You are confusing the men.”
The officer turned and glared at the soldier. Unexpectedly, the officer’s hand came up swiftly and slapped the soldier’s face. The soldier stumbled backwards and tripped over the corner of a tent. He fell to the ground and rolled painfully over the tent stake. The officer continued to rally troops to the western front and the soldier shook his head in disbelief. As he struggled to his feet, wondering what to do, he saw the Fakarans charging. Fear gripped the soldier as he realized that they were going to be attacked from both fronts simultaneously.
The soldier picked up his bow and moved away from the officer who had hit him. He nocked an arrow as the other archers were firing. He saw several horses tumble to the ground and other riders fall from their mounts, but there was no victory cry from the Motangan soldiers. A hail of arrows flew into the Motangan ranks as the horsemen continued to advance. The soldier stood with his arrow nocked, frozen by his fear. The huge warhorses charged with frightening speed as their riders sent arrow after arrow into the Motangan ranks. The Motangan archers killed entire lines of horsemen, but others immediately took their places, leaping over their fallen brothers. The charge continued unabated.
The soldier watched as the vanguard of the Fakarans dropped their bows and drew their swords, the bows swinging wildly from the leashes that attached them to the horses. The horsemen shouted as they met the Motangan line, cold steel slicing into soldiers as they charged through the encampment. The soldier turned as a horseman rode past him. He let his arrow fly, but it missed its target. He fumbled in his quiver for another arrow as his eyes followed the horseman through the encampment. His eyes grew wide and his jaw dropped as he saw the Fakarans charging through the camp from the other side. He dropped his bow and ran, knowing that none of the Motangans would survive to see the rising sun.
The soldier ran south as fast as his legs would carry him. Fakaran horsemen crisscrossed the encampment, slaying the Motangans with every pass. Horses were everywhere, trampling tents and bodies as they swept through the camp. The war shouts rang loudly from every direction and soon all of the Motangans were fleeing for their lives. The soldier zigzagged southward, dodging the attackers. He never even thought about grabbing for his sword. His only thought was to leave the area of the attack, but the charge of the Fakarans was endless.
The soldier felt the blade slice into his shoulder, throwing him off his stride. He tripped and stumbled to the ground, the searing pain threatening his consciousness. He rolled on the ground in agony, and that is when he saw his fate. Fear closed his throat as he saw the Fakaran horse charging towards him. There was no time to roll out of the way of the horse or get to his feet. There was only time to close his eyes and await death.
* * *
Harmagan reined in his horse next to the Kheri tribe leader. He sheathed his sword and grinned broadly.
“It feels great to back on the plains,” Harmagan laughed loudly. “These Motangans die like villagers.”
“They did this time,” Yojji agreed, “but do not expect it to remain that way. The Motangans are well trained. We were fortunate to catch them sleeping. The next battle will not be as easy now that they have been bloodied.”
“I will keep that in mind,” grinned the Jiadin leader. “What do we do next? Do we attack some more?”
“Not today,” Yojji shook his head. “Your men may resume wearing their red scarves now. Return to the west and await a message. The free tribes will return to the east.”
“Why not continue attacking?” asked Harmagan. “We have over a hundred thousand warriors together. We can kill them all.”
“I seriously doubt it,” Yojji shook his head. “On these plains they can see forever. Their archers will exact too great a toll on our forces. The only reason we succeeded as well as we did was because of the darkness and the element of surprise. We have lost both of those for the rest of today. Return to your camp and make sure you post watchers. The Motangans will be looking for our encampments.”
Chapter 16
Warrior Women
The jaguar raced through the Motangan jungle, leaping fallen trees and swerving around pits of quicksand. The sleek cat reached the edge of the jungle and stared at the dusk sky while it caught its breath. After a short rest, the jaguar followed the edge of the jungle, padding silently through the fine sand of the beach. As the large cat approached its destination, it moved stealthily back into the cover of the dense foliage. A few hundred paces later, the jaguar sat and stared out of the jungle at the lonesome building sitting on the beach on the eastern coast of the Island of Darkness.
The jaguar sat erect for hours, its ears tuned to the sounds of the night, as it observed the nightly routine of the four occupants. It paid careful attention to the flickering lights emanating from the windows. When the last light was extinguished, the large cat purred with satisfaction. If anyone had been watching the jaguar, they would have been puzzled by its sudden disappearance. Even more curious, they would have been baffled by the sudden appearance of the Chula shaman.
Calitora moved silently out of the jungle. He moved swiftly to the side of the building that he had been observing every night for the past week. The shaman eased his way around to the front of the building and slowly opened the front door and slipped inside. He silently closed the door and made his way to the staircase leading upstairs. With carefully placed steps, the shaman slowly climbed the staircase.