The Prophesy: Book 2 - The Right Hand of Destiny

 

The centaurs took after Ian and Silver Moon as the dragonlings took to the air. The wolves and hyenas framed the charging Centaurs, who were trying to catch up with the white blur that was Silver Moon. As they ran after him, they heard a call that resonated right around the world.

“I, Ian, Son of Harold, Legate of the Legions, Pharaoh Horus, God Thor of the Dwarf Forge, Heir to the thrones of the Canines and Equines, call upon all our subjects and our vassals to war! Be with me, NOW!”

With that a blinding light left Ian's joined hands and travelled to the stratosphere and spread around the world at the speed of light.

“Ian must know something I do not, Thorsten, for him to issue the general mobilization order.”

«I think I know what has Ian riled, Harp. We are seeing millions of orcs moving toward the Centaur camp. They are three hours away, but the Centaur soldiers are further away. The Renegades have allied themselves with the orcs, and this species is of Azrael's size. I have the dragons bomb the advancing orcs with rocks, but nothing seems to slow them down. It's like bombarding a termite column with gravel. And the Renegades are as numerous as the Centaurs you are leading.»

«Harold, what is the position of the advancing orcs relative to the Centaur camp and us?»

«Sitar, the situation is as follows: the Renegades are moving from the sunset, the orcs are moving from the sunrise. The camp is in a valley that will be a death trap.»

«Show me!»

Sitar eyed the situation as Harold saw it from his vintage point.

«Ian! Lead us toward that flood plain south of the Centaur camp! Order the camp to move downriver post-haste! We will converge faster if they move there, and we will have room to manoeuvre! Dad's right! Their emplacement is a death trap!» thundered Sitar.

Immediately Ian began incurving the column's direction further south. Ian's imperative order reached the Centaurs at the camp and immediately was obeyed as if they had been kicked in the rump. An unexpected consequence was that the Renegades also curved south in effect moving parallel to the Centaur families. Meanwhile, the orcs kept on their initial path.

As Harold surveyed the troop movement below, he couldn't help but whistle. «Good move, son! The orcs will reach an abandoned camp, and the trap's jaws got misaligned. When the Renegade Centaurs finally resume their original easterly run, they probably will have gone too far ahead of the column of Centaur families. We may be able to keep the two forces from joining!»

«There is that dad, but try to spot any orc or centaur trying to reach the other camp and kill it on the spot. Incinerate without mercy. This trick works only as long as they have no way of exchanging information about their relative movements and positions.»

«Sitar, it might even be advantageous to plant false information in the old camp of the Centaurs, if the orcs can read Centaur and Centaurs can write?» suggested Thorsten.

«I like the idea a lot, Sitar!» piped in Harp. «We need not worry about writing, a nice map showing a plausible plan to double-cross the orcs between the Renegades and the Regular Centaurs should be good enough! Intoxicating their relationships is a good idea. Paschal? Can you draw a rough map of the area, and Sitar and I will tell you what to put on it so it makes strategic sense.»

«Give me ten minutes, Harp. I have to survey the area,» replied Paschal. After about twenty minutes, the princes all agreed the strategic map was plausible enough, and Paschal, flying at grass root level, dropped the box containing the map in the middle of the abandoned Centaur camp. It fell on a pair of adjacent flat rocks and shattered, while the sheet of papyrus got stuck between them.

«Should I retrieve it?» asked Paschal.

«Will it get blown away?» asked Sitar.

«No, it's stuck, most of it is between the rocks, only about four inches stick out.»

«Leave it, then. It looks more natural, like someone badly packed something and it fell off a Centaur's package. Anyway, there will be no dragonling print, no human print, only hoofs.»

Paschal left the camp's vicinity, again flying low on his dragonling, and headed downriver to meet with his advancing brothers.

The afternoon heat was terrible. The atmosphere shimmered from convection, giving the illusion of watery scenery just beyond reach. The shade offered by the acacias was parsimonious, the dirt, dried to the bone by the unending season of misery, was pounded to a fine dust by the hoofs of the ungulates, or torn to shreds by the nails of the Canines. Dust and sand rose into a giant reddish haze that got picked up by the poor zephyr that blew in the back of the rushing column, bringing the cloud back on the sweating animals to cover them in grime. Insect rose in troves, disturbed by the advancing armada, their dark swarms adding to the pandemonium. The legionnaires kept up to the Equines and Canines with the help of assisted jumps that gave the impression they were hopping like kangaroos. Strangely, the buffalos, giraffes, and gazelles were following the zebras in their mad rush, which added to the mass exodus. Even a herd of Oliphants, the first the princes had ever seen, joined the flow. A family of black Ceros, caught unaware, found themselves carried away by magic, running like tanks blindly with the rest of the animals of the savannah. Harp and the others kept materialising flying buckets of cold water so the animals could drink while running.

An hour before nones, the first orcs ran over the lip of the valley that used to shelter the Centaur familial camp, whose smouldering cooking fires still gave the impression that it was occupied. The huts, left behind in the mad dash to leave, showed no sign of the evacuation. Pots, pans, an occasional broken amphora, and even a milling stone were visible from above the narrow valley edge. The orcs immediately fell to the ground, intent on not being seen until the signal to attack would come. The orcs that came behind the leading units also hit the dirt. Meanwhile, the adult dragons kept bombarding the moving orc units in wave after wave of diving dragon bombers. The supersonic shrieks of the dragons added to the explosive sounds of rocks breaking into millions of piece of shrapnel as they hit the earth was compounded by the cries of pain, the ferocious imprecations the orcs sent to their flying tormentors. Orcs tried shooting down the dragons with arrows, but these puny impediments of war only bounced off their rocky skin, breaking in the process.

«I wonder why they stopped?» asked Samson.

«They are waiting for a signal, or a set time,» replied Sitar.

«Are you far away from the Centaur families?»

«No, dad, we are about an hour away. Where is that column of Renegades?»

«Still moving south like they had the devil on their heels. Even if they turned around right now, they would have a thirty minute runback to reach the new location of the Centaur familial herd.»

«What is Ian's position relative to the Centaur familial camp, dad?»

«In about ten minutes, he should be at their level, twenty minutes out, East. The displacement of the Centaur camp has shortened your travel distance by thirty minutes.»

«Ian, resume our original heading. We must be in line between the orcs and the Centaurs before the orcs wake up to anything.»

«What about the renegades?»

«We'll monitor their displacements. We let them run as long as they keep moving away.»

Ian slowly brought the forward units back on their original heading, and, as nones came, the first lines of dragonlings settled down at the tip of the flood valley. Line after line of dragonlings settled, and then the Centaur warriors lined behind them. The Equines and Canines were getting ready to drive the ungulates further afield, when a message came from Harold.

«The Orcs have begun the assault on the empty village. I don't give them more than 5 minutes to realise it's empty!»

«Split the gazelles, rhinos, Oliphants and buffalos into two massive herds. We'll have them move up-river, just behind the butts of the river's shore. Ian, hold position while we move part of the herd across your rear!» ordered Sitar, really in his element.

The wolves began dividing the giant herd advancing toward them, with the help of the Equines. The hyenas contributed by maintaining the two forks separate from the riverbed, patrolling on the side and nipping at some stubborn bull or matriarch. The separation went well.

«The Orcs are furious, Sitar, they have burned every single shelter they could. They have begun moving downriver in a narrow, densely packed column. We are busy forcing the laggards to catch up with the main column. Is that what you had in mind, Sitar?»

«Yes it is, dad. The plan fits with what any good tracker could read off the ground. They are headed straight for our position, but trapped between two high cliffs. There is only a single place they can effectively exit in order, a set of gently sloped but relatively narrow gorges, and we will be driving the two herds down these gullies.»

It was nearing an hour after nones before the advanced units of orcs spotted the two gently sloping sand-packed exits. The lead General, well aware that his units were vulnerable in the dry riverbed, decided to climb out of the wadi, and split his troops into two groups, still numbering several millions, even with the intense bombardment they had sustained on the open plains reaching an illusory objective.

«They took the bait, Sitar. They should reach the top plateau in ten minutes. You are five out!»

«Thanks for the thumbs up dad. The driving units are now beginning to incurvate the herds toward the gullies' top entrances.»

From the air Harold and Samson saw the huge columns slowly curve toward each other as the pressure exerted by the hyenas diminished on the inside and the wolf pressure increased on the outside. Right on schedule the first gazelles engaged down the gullies, and were let go. The smell of water trapped below the dry riverbed made them mad and nothing short of death would stop them. Immediately behind the gazelles came the buffalos, followed by the rhinos and Oliphants. The collision between the climbing Orcs and the descending herds resonated between the walls of the canyons. The Orcs had little chance of escaping the stampede, and soon, the sands were sticky with blood, guts, dismembered orcs and gazelles. The buffalos ravaged the wounded orcs, as the Oliphants and rhinos came ramming down behind them, enraged by the smell of blood. A few orcs took to the cliffs and tried to climb out, only to have their head smashed by rearing Equines, or their neck snapped by hyenas and other Canines. For a while, none managed to get over the lip of the narrow but high passage. The bodies of the dying or dead orcs cascaded from above, bringing death to those below who were hit by this rain of another type. From above, the orcs seemed like a colony of ants on the move. They crawled on the cliffs' sides, over the dead carcasses of the herds and their fallen brethrens. Yet they advanced meeting head-on the fury of the panic-stricken gazelles and buffalos. Millions met millions; gazelle horns gutted orcs, orc swords gutted gazelles; buffalos met mass to mass with the orcs, and won some and lost some battles. The ceros were like tanks of another age, crushing under their raw mass both allies and enemies. The Oliphants, majestic in their blind fury, walked down the gullies, their imposing mass blocking any attempt at getting around them as they rubbed their flanks on the canyon's walls. The number of dead matched any folly of war the Ancients had ever devised.

The descending animals had the advantage of high ground and managed, for a time, to push back the orcs, until they collided with the main column at the bottom of the gullies. There, things changed; orcs far outnumbered the animals that had managed to climb down, and the advantage of the terrain now favoured the orcs. Nonetheless, the battle continued with unabated horror, as the few gazelles, buffalos, ceros and oliphants converged and began moving upriver, called there by the presence of water just below a low, narrow, but dry waterfall. But numbers had to prevail. However numerous the ungulates had been, they were outnumbered ten to one by the orcs, and had no weapons other than those supplied by nature. Death befell them to the last. Even the pachyderms died under the onslaught, but not before killing thousands of orcs. Finally free to resume their progress, the orcs, still millions strong, climbed out of the trap, and began assailing the Equines and Canines.

«Pull back and regroup!» ordered Sitar. «Lead them to the salt lakes! Let's see if they are stupid enough to drink that! Harp, Paschal, fly to the lakes and begin teleporting our units back to our position near the Centaur camp as soon as they show up. I want the orcs to find themselves without a trail to follow! Samson, Harold! Patrol behind our rear guard, and recover anyone of ours, dead or alive! Enron, Thorsten! To triage! Ian! Inside our defensive position! I want the dragons to bomb the riverbed! The objective is interdiction of passage by whatever means necessary! Where is Timor?»

«I sent him on a red dragon to verify the progress of the Renegades. I am waiting for him to fly back to deliver his report. He should be here any minute,» replied Harp.

***

Given that they were moving a lot faster, the Renegades outpaced the movement undertaken by the Centaur familial group in their rush south and went much further south than their target. Outflanking may be good, but too much of a good thing may be bad. It took near vespers for the leaders of the Renegades to throw away the imperative suggestion Ian had given to the Centaurs. By then, the sun was tainting in ochre the dusty sky, as its lower edge began sinking below the western horizon. It took another hour and complete darkness to bring the Renegade column to a halt. By then they were five hours out from the new campsite, and darkness had fallen, making running impossible. The last rays of the sun had long since vanished, and the dusty atmosphere, which blanked out starlight, and the new moon, made displacement in the savannah hazardous. To compound matters, the Renegades were far from any source of water; their mad dash had cost them dearly in water reserve. Already, two hundred of their numbers marked the trail they had followed with their bloating corpses. They had died of dehydration, heart failure, or pulmonary insufficiency. More tragic, these dead contained quite a few of the elders, the most experienced in dealing with this situation, and the most knowledgeable of the land. The residual leadership was characterised mostly by strong-headed but inexperienced stallions. Disputes and clan fights arose as each leader tried to impose its views on the others. It took until compline for order to be restored. By then, another dozen or so renegade Centaurs lay agonizing around the makeshift camp, and no one knew where they were. The occasional roar of a predator behind them reminded everyone of the consequences dispersion would have. They packed themselves in a tight circle looking outside, ready to defend themselves against the big cats, which constitute the top of the food chain in Africa. The barking of the hyenas, the noise of the bickering vultures and hawks, all added to remind them of their precarious situation.

High overhead, a dark dot circled, invisible from the ground. Timor and his red dragon ride watched the spectacle, wondering how many would survive the night. Satisfied that nothing would move until daybreak, Timor returned to the Princes' campsite.

***

“Hey Timor! What's the situation?” Sitar asked, as soon as the red dragon landed.

“They are quite far off. From today's average speed, I would say five hours out. But they won't be able to make it back at the same clip. They seem to have run out of resources, mainly water. They have stopped moving for the night, and there are some dissentions within the group. I saw some ugly fights.”

“All the better for us. We are busy recovering our units from near the salt lakes, and sending our wounded back to Eloise by teleportation. Are you doing ok?”

“I am hot, fur and this heat do not mix well.”

“Would you like a cold shower?”

“Where? The water is only in buckets!”

“Because we so choose. There!” Sitar translocated a few thousand gallons of water from an ice-covered lake off Patagonia and doused Timor with it. “Feeling better?”

“Oh yes!”

“There is food near the mess tent. Go eat.”

The dripping Troll walked off, leaving behind a wet trail that attracted thirsty animals from yards around.

«Sitar, I am done recovering the last group of zebras. I still have about three thousand hyenas to move. They are holding the orcs back some, just to give them the impression there is a rich goal ahead.»

«Thanks. What about you, Harp?»

«I am finishing the transport of the last few hundred zebras. The wolves are helping the hyenas slow the orcs down. I have about two thousand hyenas and a hundred wolves. Greywolf is moving back toward me with a decade, assuring rear guard.»

«Harold, Samson, what is the situation?»

«I have a few hundred dead amongst the zebras, and a dozen amongst the hyenas. The number of wounded is about ten times higher,» replied Harold.

«I have about the same number. Add a dozen wounded wolves, but no losses amongst the royal wolf guards,» added Samson.

«What is the last report from the dragons on orc movement, Ian?»

«They have taken the bait, but a third column is still moving down the riverbed toward the Centaur camp. I ordered the dragons to make every inch gained by the orcs paid by a layer of their own troops. The dragons are running out of boulders, and have resorted to picking rear-guard orcs to dump them on the advancing units from about a mile high. Raining corpses must be demoralizing.»

«Assuming they don't feed on them. Orcs have no morals.»

As he was receiving the reports from the different units and his brothers, Sitar moved to the triage area, to assess the situation. “Enron, what's the situation?”

“Most of our wounded can be healed on the spot and are returned to battle within five minutes of arrival. The others are sent to Francesca for further healing. The dead are stored in that huge icebox you see there. I have been racking them on layers of ice that Thorsten is teleporting from Iceland.”

“Is that why there is fog? I never thought there could be fog in hot weather.”

“Yes, the ice is cooling everything, including the area around the icebox, which creates a miniature cloud. It's raining inside the box, if you want to know! Just look at how much water drips outside!”

“OK. I'll be going up to survey the battlefield as soon as day breaks.”

“How many more losses are we expecting?”

“Like any retreat, the number of losses will increase exponentially, Enron.” The last out are the most exposed.”

“I hope the wolves will get out of it.”

“Knowing Greywolf? He will be fighting and holding an orc by the guts when he gets teleported.”

«Sitar, I have ordered the dragonlings to the air. Lifting orcs is well within their capacity, and they are feeling useless. Demoralized troops are not profitable to war efforts.»

«OK. Are you up too?»

«Yes. Silver Moon is holding the combined Equine and Canine front line, if you need more information.»

Lauds was upon them before the last canines were moved out of orc path. Effectively, Duke Greywolf was holding a huge orc by the guts when Samson teleported him. Noticing the extra cargo on arrival, Enron immediately dispatched the orc high up. Greywolf was seriously wounded, his left hind leg cut off, and bleeding profusely from many open sword wounds.

«Paschal, is there a stasis pod available? I don't think Francesca could do anything for him.»

“Yes. I'll take over. Release! Replace me at teleporting our last units, Harp!»

The duke was enveloped by a blue halo for a second and vanished. At the same time, a blue halo appeared in the stasis room used by the Eloise medical staff.

“What are you doing here, Paschal?” wondered Francesca, who was busy installing one of the zebras in a stasis chamber for healing.

“I have a very wounded friend, near death,” Sitar replied as he quickly activated a red pod, that immediately came to life. He quickly transported the body of Greywolf into it, closed the cover, flooded the cell with regenerative fluid and started emergency procedures. The transparent liquid turned progressively darker, reaching a deep ruby red colour.

“What is this?”

“Artificial blood. He has lost too much. I have also infused oxygen in the red blood cells, so he doesn't need to breath anymore. The kidneys have failed, so I have the system take over. I am currently injecting a massive amount of antibiotics and antiviral agents. The wounds were severely contaminated, and I didn't have time to clean them up. When he has stabilized, the system will automatically start the regeneration process. In a few months, he'll be as good as new.”

“Well, young man, you have some explaining to do! I thought these things only stopped death from occurring! We have over six thousand pods occupied!”

“That's the problem with doctors. They think they know everything and never ask questions!”

Francesca gave Paschal a friendly swat behind the head.

“Be polite to your elders!”

“Sure, sure. To initiate the regeneration cycle, press that green button there. Since regeneration takes a lot of energy, please do not do more than a hundred at a time. When that red light turns green, the process is done. Reanimate using that yellow button. When that is done, it too turns green. That may include restarting kidney, heart and lungs several times. Then the blue button begins the release cycle, and turns green when the release is complete. By then the lungs will have resorbed the fluid, the body will be washed, and, normally, faecal matter will have been released as well as the first urine. Open the cover by pressing on the lever there, and teleport the body to a resting bed. Twenty-four hours later, the person will wake up. Given how long some will have passed in there, they will need to exercise to recover walking and motor skills. Antibiotics and antiviral agents are automatically included the moment you close the stasis pod, so you had nothing to do to include them.”

“It's funny, I always thought they died but I couldn't verify?”

“In a way they do, Francesca. The basic stasis fluid does not contain oxygen, so the process of oxidation stops. They are dead for all intents and purpose. The liquid is liquefied hydrogen sulphide²⁸²⁸ ("See the work of Dr. Mark Roth, described <a href=\"http:\/\/labs.fhcrc.org\/roth\/\">here<\/a>."), and is colourless. When you initiate a regeneration cycle, the fluid is replaced with another liquid, the red one. In short order, the sulphide is displaced in the body, and the oxidation process restarts. The moment you set this cycle in motion, antiviral and antibacterial agents are included in the mix. Yet, the body is kept at slightly above freezing. Note that there is no need to freeze a body to conserve it in hydrogen sulphide. The reanimation process' core is to bring the body to physiological temperature.”

“What about the healing process?”

“It takes time. The more damaged, the longer it takes. For instance, Greywolf will be spending two months in there. By then his leg will have regenerated, his wounds will be healed, and all his toxins due to aging will have been removed. He will be feeling like a pup.”

“One of these days, Paschal, I'll put myself in one of those and wait for the miracle. I'm feeling my age.”

“And looking it too!”

“Paschal!”

“Hey, you look young for an oldie!”

“Paschal!!”

“I'll never understand women. Even a compliment is taken as an insult!” With that parting shot, Paschal returned to his station within the African battlefields.

***

«The false dawn is due in an hour and a half. Do we need to feed the dragons?»

«The have started feeding on orcs, Sitar. They pick them up from the advancing units and eating them whole. I think they are doing it pretty close to the ground so the orcs below can hear the crunchy noises,» replied Harp.

«That's psychological war at its finest!»

«Maybe, but they do not seem to be caring much about that.»

«Anyway, fall back on our position. Ian, how long before the column emerges from the gorge?»

«Their first units will emerge in about two hours if we maintain the pressure. The sun should be just peeking over the horizon.»

«I have an idea to slow them down, I'll be right back,» Harp said, as he jumped on one of the red dragons.

The red dragon that carried Harp inserted itself in the flow of bombers and dropped down to half-height. As it flew down toward the looming gap that marked the opening to the flood plain, Harp used Bata to collapse the cliff wall on the left side, effectively crushing all the orcs below with billions of tons of rock. Pass one done, Harp reinserted himself in the bombing run and repeated the process on the right side, crushing those that had been using it to travel downriver over the main orc column.

«We gained a couple of hours of rest, buried honourably the ungulates, and in effect made travel for the orcs a lot less easy. Everyone goes to camp for the rest of the night, except for three dragonlings to monitor the activity of the orcs and their progress. Add another to keep an eye on the Renegades.»

«Good move, Harp. Too bad we don't have water. That would be an added obstacle for the orcs.»

«Unfortunately, water would be a hindrance, Enron. We are camped right where it would normally flow.»

«Oh well, not all ideas are good.»

«OK, we need a general strategy meeting. Ian, get the Centaur leadership. We have a couple of hours of respite, due to Harp's spectacular handiwork. All others! Take a nap! The coming day will be long.» ordered Sitar.

«Aren't all days of war!» Harold replied.

«Harold?»

«What can I do for you, Annabelle?»

«The legionnaires are ready. We have twenty-five legions awaiting teleportation. The five Equine armies are aligned in front of Eloise, under Prince Yamato, as are the twelve Canine armies. Dukes Dunbar, Bushtail Fox and Williams are leading them. Princess Iridia is also there with the Fairies; there are twenty centuries. And we have about eight Elf armies. The Trolls are all there, as well as the unicorns, which are two centuries.»

«Where do the twenty-five legions come from? We had at most seven when we last had to fight up in the northern regions of the Elvin kingdom?”

«We have trained intensely since then. Some of the young have graduated either through experience at war or through promotion. I admit most of these legions are young, very young, but they are seasoned and trained to the fine arts of killing orcs and crocodiles. Their leadership is composed of old legions officers. Trust me, they are ready.»

«I have been too busy playing king, my dear, to be Legate. I trust your judgement on their preparations. Will you be joining us, Annabelle?»

«No, I have to ensure the homeland defence.»

«I agree, we cannot abandon everything. How many units do you have at your disposal?»

«I have about two Elf armies, and another two hundred centuries of Horses and the same number of Canines. The number of cadet legionnaires would give us another three armies, should we need them.»

«That's good enough for me. Ian? Your troops are waiting for transport!»

«So I heard, dad. Sitar, Harp, brothers! Join me on the plains to the left of the camp! Centaurs! Report to the left of your camp. It is time you meet my army!»

“Ian's on a roll! I can barely wait to see the looks on the face of these insufferable Centaur jerks,” Harp told Thorsten.

“They are already a bit queasy with the sudden appearance of the adult dragons from nowhere. They probably factored that the dragonlings might be easy, but seeing the adults changed their estimate.”

“Anyway, let's not forget that, after disposing of the orcs, we must convince them to move to the Elvin Kingdom. I think I have a couple of ideas.”

“Poor Centaurs! When you begin having ideas, sparks fly, Harp!”

As they were closing in on Ian's dragonling, where the others, including Silver Moon, were waiting on them, they noticed that Sitar was talking to Blackie Dog.

«Duke Greywolf is out of commission for a couple of months. Dad has asked the wolves to nominate a replacement, and Blackie Wolf has declined the promotion. He has suggested you take over, since you and Greywolf both think much alike and the Wolves have rooted for you. Do you accept?»

«Are there any other candidates?»

«No, Blackie Dog, you have been recommended by foxes, wolves, coyotes, and even the few hyenas that have seen you lead the royal guards. The Equines and Dragons also root for you, so, we would have bad manners to ignore what amounts to a plebiscite for your promotion.»

«I do not want to replace Greywolf. He is a friend.»

«I understand. It is only until he is back amongst us. Consider this a regency.»

«Are you telling me you expect Greywolf to do a Samson on me?»

The reply of Blackie Dog made everyone guffaw in uncontrollable laughter.

«I hope not. Anyway, if Harold decides to put the crown back on Samson's head, he won't have much of a choice. I think he leaves it on Enron for two reasons: Enron succeeds where few would; and second, it frees Samson to counsel him on imperial issues, a freedom Samson would not possess had he to manage a kingdom. Anyway, as Lord Commander of the Atlantean Armies, I can and do name you Regent and Grand Marshall of the Canine Army. Get to work. Do me a favour: try not to join Greywolf in the stasis pods. I need commanders of experience. Your current commander in second takes over your post at the head of the Royal Guard Dogs.»

Blackie dog joined the Royal Wolf Guards, and waited for the events to unfold. As he sat down, he saw a huge whitish-blue line appear off in the distance, and move rapidly toward them. As it progressed, row after row of Canines, Equines, Elves, Centurions, fairies, appeared. Then smaller grouping materialized, comprised of the Unicorns and the Trolls. As he looked around, he spotted Ian, his arms up, glowing bluish-white with energy. The Prince had gained in power. One last group, wearing mage robes, materialized about twenty yards from them, led by Nestor.

“Your training has paid off handsomely with Ian, Harp,” commented Thorsten.

“I have to agree. I've seen him do great things in the past, well beyond his years, but this is a quantum jump. I think he has been picking magic from all of us, including you, my love. That trick looks much like your call to war, accompanied by the effect.”

«General meeting of the Army Chiefs of Staff in ten minutes! That includes your leadership, Centaurs, and you, Nestor. Princess Iridia, Legate Harold, Kings Samson, Bjorn, join us. Unicorns, may your Alpha Stallion join us as well? Dukes, duchesses, and Generals, join us. Brothers, let us prepare a place of meeting!»

Paschal created a large amphitheatre in the ground, vitrifying the sides to prevent seeping water from filling in the newborn hole. The place was divided into a series of pie-like sections and allowed for each species to rest comfortably. The arrangement created a natural sound vortex at certain points that magnified the voice of those that would be standing in them.

The amphitheatre was full, with no less than a thousand participants. Sitar, Montue, God of War, Commander chief of staff of Atlantis, presided the meting with an iron fist. He slammed his fist on the thick granite table, bringing the assembly to order with a resounding boom.

«Legate Harold. What is the latest situation report?»

«Orcs are split in three columns. One is trying to cross the salt flats, staying off the saline lake, but there is quicksand on the far end, and they are stuck in the middle, in the dark. Another column, much larger, is halted on the west side, right beside the saline lake. Some have tried drinking it, and paid the price, which has halted the vast majority from giving a try. The most important is currently crossing what is left of the riverbed the Centaur family groups used to reach here. The Renegade are immobilized five hours away from here, demoralised and lost, without water. As for our situation, I'll let Samson report.»

«The situation is as follows: we have lost three centuries, all units combined. Another thirty got wounded, of which most have already returned to their station after emergency treatment of minor wounds. The rest are in the hands of Francesca, which has put them in stasis pods. I heard Paschal went there, but I have yet to get the full story. As for our current deployment here, it numbers about seven hundred fifty thousand; it represents about half of the Kingdom's forces. We could field twice the number we have here, which amounts to about one point five million. I have not counted the Centaurs, but our estimate stands at one thousand two hundred.»

«Paschal?»

«I accompanied Greywolf to Eloise; he is now in a stasis pod, undergoing emergency healing. I have activated the Red One state. He should be out of the pod in two months. I took a few minutes to explain to Francesca the use of the Red One stasis, and explained the load limitations. By and large, within a few weeks, we should see those that have been in stasis for a while begin to emerge. That represents about sixty centuries.»

«OK. Centaurs, we have a long battle ahead tomorrow. Even if we have managed to split the orcs into three branches, there are still more in each branch than we are in the whole army you see in the field. We will be using magic on a vast scale so do not be surprised by anything. Harp is in charge of the magic aspect of the battle; Legate Harold will lead the Legions; King Samson will lead the Elves; Princes Enron, Paschal, Ian, Harp, and Thorsten will constitute the Elite Magic Group. Nestor, you are to lead the mages; Princess Iridia, the orcs will have problems seeing your people; you are to infiltrate their lines and do as much disruption as you can. Timor? Who will lead your platoon?»

«Dad has asked I take the lead. He believes I have learned a lot by living with you. I am ready to lead.»

«Fine. Silver Moon has command of Equines. Blackie Dog, you have command of Canines; remember, you must coordinate with the Equines. Unicorns, who is your leader?»

«I am Golden Horn. We will contribute to the magic corps.»

«Fine by me, do you want to operate on your own or under the Princes, as the mages do?»

«We believe in unity of command. We will follow the Princes.»

«Diamondcutter, you lead the dwarfs, along with your wife. Thorsten is currently mobilized to the Elite Magical Unit. Gold dragonling leads the dragons all ages included. Did I miss anyone?»

«What about us?» asked one of the lead Centaur Stallion, the Knife Master.

«Have you picked a leader? We cannot have you bickering for leadership amongst yourselves in the middle of a battle.»

«We have decided that since your people healed the Lance Master, you would trust him more than any of us. We have selected him as our leader.»

«Lance Master, I have no idea about the real fighting capacities of Centaurs. But you do not know ours either. I suggest you join Yamato's cavalry. You might learn things from Prince Yamato; and he, in turn, might learn things from you.»

«I see. Who is Prince Yamato?»

«It is I,» replied Yamato, standing up.

«OK. Now, let's discuss strategy. The problem is that the orcs will be coming from that narrow stream, spreading in a cone as they come out. We have two goals: kill them all, and prevent any of them from contacting the other two columns. Dragonlings, your role is to patrol the outer perimeter of the battlefield. Roast, eat, or otherwise dispose of the orcs that try to leave the battlefield. Adult Dragons: convert that damn river into a fire alley. Your immunity to magic will let the Magical Unit use their powers without worrying about you. Dwarfs, Fairies, your ease of hiding will help you deal with infiltration. Please stay away from the gorge, since it will be the scene of a lot of magic. Unicorns, you will be in the front line to use your magic on any concentration of orcs that might survive the gauntlet. Yamato, coordinate with the elves and legionnaires; legionnaires forward, Elves in the middle, and your units behind. The goal is to throw the cavalry at any concentration of orcs the Unicorns can separate from the main orc army. Legate, your units protect the elves; Samson, your archers rain arrows on the orcs, and on the sound of a horn, split open to let the cavalry charge. Be ready to rotate to face any grouping of orcs. In order to protect the Unicorns from friendly fire, mainly Elvin arrows, I have asked Harp to conceive a special blanket; it is light, does not keep sweat in, but nothing can pierce it. It does not mean you should be arrogant and charge blindly into orcs! The blankets will not protect your legs or your underside! It is not full body armour! Centaurs, Equines, you will receive the same protection. Equines: use your body mass to help the Unicorns in separating the orcs into manageable, crushable groups. We have no backup line, but I plan to keep the Canines in reserve. Bushtail, with your foxes, try to kill the wounded orcs without being seen. Hyenas, wolves and dogs, you hold back until needed.»

«I have a series of questions that have yet not been dealt with, Lance Master, and I wish them addressed.»

«What are they, Stave Master?»

«First, how come they showed up just now? I feel uneasy when an ally falls from the sky just when we need it, if not suspicious. Second, how can we trust them? Third, I see that the vast majority is willing to listen and follow that young colt, but I do not understand why?»

«I have seen that young one they call Ian throw a knife in the eye of a big cat with surgical precision. I doubt even our Knife master would have succeeded. If he, as young as he is, can do that, I have no doubt about the other ones' capacity. The magic stave of the one called Harp sends shivers down my spine. And the precision of the axe throw from the one named Thorsten is astounding. Now, they follow that colt's order, I would have bad faith in not trusting their judgement. They have shown their valour with that battle alone. And you saw the result of the battle between that colt and the member of the Fighters. All of us saw the sparks of war in the gorge; we heard the sound of battle like none before. Need we discuss this more? Our rules stipulate we follow the best. They are the best.»

«I wonder what happened to the Swords Master?»

«He has been disavowed by the Swords, and is now a Renegade. I stand in holding, until such time as we can organize a formal competition to determine the best Swordsman in our group,» replied the same Centaur that had started the revolt earlier. I was his second in command.»

«I will clearly identify myself to all, so none can doubt who I am,» intervened Sitar, standing up and levitating above the platform. «I am Montue, God of War of Atlantis, and Commander in Chief of the armies. I am Prince Sitar, of the Wolf and Equine Thrones, son of Thor the God of the Forges, Pharaoh Horus, king of Atlantis, Legate Harold of the Legions, Liege Lord of the Mages, the Dwarves, the Elves, the Fairies, the Trolls, and the Unicorns. I occupy this station by the will of Horus, due to my seventeen thousand years of experience at war. I bear with me, today, the sword Mitsuko. I have killed more in this life alone than there are sand grains in that riverbed. I have imposed myself to elves, legionnaires and orcs in battle. Had I been weak or incompetent, none would follow my diminutive self. Let me show you what I mean. Harp? Teleport an orc for me in the middle of this platform.»

Harp obliged, teleporting the biggest orc he could find from the advancing column still progressing deep within the canyon.

«Does it fit your need?»

«Perfect! Douse him in water, he seems a bit disoriented?»

A few thousand gallons of icy water fell on the platform, splashing everyone within reach, well past the fifth row of seats.

«Does anyone doubt the reality of what they are seeing?» thundered Harp.

«Quite refreshing, Harp. Gentlemen vacate the platform,» Sitar ordered.

The orc was shaking off the water from his fur, spraying everyone within reach, as the royals left the platform, leaving only Sitar behind.

“Orc, who are you?” asked Sitar.

“Fagan, first class soldier of the Horde. And you?”

“Sitar, Montue, God of war. I wish not to kill you right away, Orc, but to demonstrate battle skills. But do try to kill me. Do your best. Your Horde will need you and then maybe you could carry a message to your leadership, once the demonstration is done. Are you ready?”

“Yes.” With that the orc took a huge jump and tried to slice Sitar's head off. Sitar dove below the blade, and using his fine swordsmanship disarmed the orc. The blade flew off and fell on the floor behind the attacker. Sitar dropped Mitsuko and using the orc's forward momentum, pulled him forward in a classical Jiu-Jitsu move involving the legs to leverage the huge body mass and add to its momentum that sent the orc flying over him landing on its back with a resounding thud. Even before the orc had hit the hard surface of the platform, Sitar was up, his right hand holding his blade, and facing the still rolling orc.

«Need you see more?»

«No,» answered the Stave Master.

“Orc, tell your leadership to back off or face extermination. We do not put up with your kind.”

“I will, but I doubt they will listen; they will take it as provocation.”

“Just as I thought, Orc. I have noticed over the eons that mad generals do not do good strategists. Harp? He's yours.”

As soon as he had dispatched the orc back to his camp, Harp began addressing the last two questions.

«As for the last two questions,» began Harp. «We did not know of your internal politics. We had no knowledge of the dissident group, the Renegades. We had to ask the Lance Master about them. We did not survey for orcs either, maybe we should have. We were more worried about your welcome than orcs. We know how to deal with orcs: we kill them; but you were to be approached with a different set of objectives in mind. There are two objectives. The first was the establishment of diplomatic relations, in order to gain a better understanding of your situation and needs. The second was to see if relocating you to the Elvin Kingdom was possible. This is done in view of consolidating all life forms within a restricted area so we did not have to run all over the planet to pick you up the day things degenerated further. We call it the Ark Project. We have been picking up as much life species as we can, and bringing them to the Elvin kingdom for relocation or hibernation. You certainly have noticed the strange weather. It is due to the onset of an ice age. Given how widespread the ice cover is already, we have to work fast. It is dry because a good portion of the water is locked up in thick ice shelves. We know this is a stopgap measure, but we have yet to figure out what is the ultimate goal of what we have undertaken. We are guided by prophecy. I am sorry to inform you that your homeland is desertifying at a very high speed. Shortly, it will be impossible for your herd to stay. We are offering greener pastures.»

«At what price?»

«The same everyone has paid: an oath of fealty to the Throne of the Wolves and Equines. It implies abiding by the laws of the land, being available to fight in wars with us, and learning to live with different species. As you see, we have incorporated a wide variety of species, including what used to be archenemies, the wolves and horses. What you gain is food, shelter, health care, water, and learning new fighting techniques. And, naturally, a place in the Ark. Your leadership retains its independence in internal affairs. Ask prince regent Thorsten and Enron if dad, Legate King Harold, has intervened much in the day-to-day management of their respective kingdoms. He has had to, make no mistake. After all he placed the crown on the head of Thorsten and Enron when their respective dads were sick. He is willing to rescind that whenever King Samson or Diamondcutter request a return of the Crown to them. For now, both kings seem satisfied with the work the Regents have been doing and seem to enjoy a break. They have been included in the Kingdom's Privy Council, and are contributing to its management. I think I heard Samson say it is for the best, since he is free to deal with the bigger picture rather than the nitty-gritty of managing a kingdom on a daily basis. This process has repeated itself with the Equines. Somehow, I suspect Silver Moon is getting more and more of the load of managing the Equines. I suspect that Greywolf will delegate more to Blackie Dog, once he is out of therapeutic coma in Elvin Kingdom. Timor, the Troll prince, was left with us to learn the art of leadership, and the fact that he leads their group here is testimony to the fact that his dad, Bjorn, is satisfied with the results.»

«Yes, very!» added Bjorn, hugging his son.

«What would you do should we decide to leave?»

«First, it depends on circumstances. Let us make it clear we would much prefer the decision be taken now rather than after a bloody and uncertain battle. The orcs outnumber us at least thirty-to-one. I would love to leave them with nothing to dig their claws in. And wouldn't it be nice that the Renegades met the orcs without us in between? I suspect there would be sparks, given the orcs believe the Renegades have betrayed them!»

«What about the battle?»

«The best battle is the one that is never fought,» intervened Sitar. «Each death is one too many.»

«How much time do we have before the battle begins?»

«We have at most an hour. We have been talking for a good hour and a half, and dawn is near. We expect the first orcs to emerge from the pile of rocks at the first lights of dawn.»

«How long will it take to move out of here?»

«Thirty minutes if Ian does it alone, three if we do it all together. The dragons will leave for our base camp up north, since we have not finished recovering what we came to get in the first place. I would like the decision to be taken before there is light, so the orcs and Renegades do not know where we are headed. The more miraculous it seems, the more disturbing it will be.»

«Sitar, a dragonling reports a group of unidentified flying objects coming from the north-east.»

«Well they are not orcs or crocodile priests. While you debate amongst yourselves, members of the Seven, I will go see for myself what is nearing our position.»

Figure 20: Black White-Wing, Alpha Stallion of the Pegasus

 

 

Sitar took off with his dragonling to meet the incoming unknown entities. It became apparent thee were flying horses, and quite a few of them. After a minor adjustment to his telepathic frequency, Sitar was able to communicate with them. Apparently, Ian's call across the horse spectrum had reached them and they had left the foothills of the Himalayas, where their herd was hiding, to answer the call.

«Silver Moon, I think you are going to like this, you will meet long-lost cousins of yours, the Pegasus war horses.»

«Is their entire herd there?»

«No, we left our family behind.»

«Think of your home!» ordered Ian.

A few minutes later, the entire herd of Pegasus left behind found itself ported to the Elvin Kingdom, by the care of an enthusiastic Ian.

«The herd is now in the Elvin Kingdom. You need not worry about your family anymore. Land and join us. We are awaiting a decision from the Centaurs. I will introduce you to the others as soon as we are within the amphitheatre.»

The Pegasus warhorses landed in close proximity to each other, their wings acting as air brakes as they touched down. The Stallion, aptly named Black, immediately sent his different fighting groups, composed of twenty-five members each, to join Yamato's cavalry. He followed Sitar to the amphitheatre, which had been adjusted to include an additional box.

«Ladies, gentlemen, may I present to you Black White-Wing, the Lead Stallion of the Pegasus Warhorse herd. He came to Ian's summons.»

«I hope I am not too late for the battle? It took us most of the day to regroup and ascertain that our family were protected. Then the flight lasted three hours and a half at twice the speed of sound, for a total flight of three thousand and eight hundred miles. We come from the foothills of the tallest mountains on this planet.»

«Welcome. I have yet to introduce you to our company. First, I think you will be interested in meeting the one that summoned you. Ian, please stand up. May I introduce Prince Ian, heir to Atlantis, the Wolf and Equine Thrones?»

The very small size of Ian took the warhorse by surprise. Had he not heard in his mind the imperative command that had summoned his people to war, he would have dismissed the diminutive figure as a negligible quantity.

«You have quite a presence, for one so small. I am glad to meet you.»

«Likewise, the honour is all mine. I am not yet four years old, but I carry the presence of my ancestors, much like you do.»

«That explains much. You have a strange ancestry, young one.»

«Oh yes, Atlantean, Canine, Equine, including yours, White-Wing, dwarf, dragon, Elf, Unicorn, and Fairy; and even the memory of the Centaurs, which have yet to recover it, blocked as it is by their stubborn individualism. If only they would listen, they would gain a lot more than an insight into their history.»

«Next, I think you are going to be in shock, Black White-Wing. May I present to you Silver Moon, Lord Agramon, direct descendent of the Founder of the Equines, First Lord Stallion of the Herd?»

Silver Moon descended from his box to the centre of the amphitheatre, head held high, with an elegance that made everyone quite aware this was no ordinary colt. Black White-Wing watched Silver Moon come toward him, trying to remember his history. Just as he was about to give up, he saw the full moon on the horse's body, and it came back to him: Only the bearer of Lord Agramon's soul could have this mark. It was Lord Agramon that was coming to him. Immediately, he kneeled on his forepaws, hanging his head low.

«My Lord! Had we known, we would not have delayed!»

«You did what was best given your knowledge. Please stand. I am no more into protocol than Prince Ian is!»

That comment had everyone in the royal party laughing much to the surprise of the Centaurs and the Pegasus, which had not witnessed Ian's lively and close companionship with Silver Moon.

«What is your command, my lord?»

«Join us. We are waiting for a decision from the Centaurs. The situation is dire. Even with your arrival our enemies at least thirty to one outnumber us. Sitar, Montue, god of war of Atlantis, the one that led you here, is now ready to resume the debate. Join me near my box.»

After the calm had returned in the amphitheatre, Sitar took the stand.

«Have you come to a conclusion?» he asked, looking at the Lance Master.

«The debate has been acrimonious, but we have come to a decision, which is not unanimous, but everyone will abide by it. We accept your offer to move out. However, the Master of the Sword needs confirmation by our laws. Will you allow it?»

«Yes, as soon as is convenient. Admit with me now is not the time. Once this is done, and confirmation is acquired, we will proceed to the swearing-in. This will be done in the following days, unless you wish us present. In that case, it will be delayed by a couple of months. Ian? Are you ready to move everyone back? We will join in the effort so the move will be simultaneous. Who stays to accompany us to the Sphinx? Stand aside. We need two legionnaires per dragon. The others will be sent home. Ian, you go back home with dad and Samson. We need Thorsten, Harp, Paschal, and myself on the site of the Sphinx. Dragons, be ready for take-off in two minutes. Those patrolling, keep doing so and join the flight as we climb up.»

A few minutes later, the royals created a huge circle and energy flowed to envelop the entire camp and army. The energy potential grew to the point the birds began singing, thinking the sun was up. Suddenly everyone except the royals involved in the circle disappeared silently. As the dust settled on the once again empty plain, the royals that were due in Eloise were teleported by Ian, leaving only the dragons and the teams that were to dig out the crystal from under the great pyramid.

«Take-off, twenty-five to a row, we are running late, and I want us out of here before the orcs come out of the canyon!» ordered Sitar.

The dragons, each carrying their legionnaire pair, took off, creating another thick veil of dust. Less than twenty minutes after giving the general departure order, the dragons were flying back to the Sphinx at a leisurely three hundred miles per hour.

Below, the orcs only saw red dust blocking any view, and, once it settled, a ravaged landscape showing there had been an important concentration of horses in the area. The presence of the amphitheatre baffled them, but they decided to travel downriver. Since they could not see any exit mark on either side of the camp, they figured the herd had moved in this direction.

Had the royals stayed two and a half hours more over the area, they would have seen a spectacle whose savagery would have made them sick. The main orc column collided with the returning Renegades and promptly butchered them to the last one, before starting a feeding frenzy that would have made the megalodons jealous. The last surviving Centaur of Africa was the ex-Swords Master, and his demise was only a question of time. With no herd to protect him, all his ability would not suffice in the face of a hungry lion pride.