“The main prong of the attack will be straight up the road,” declared General Kolling. “I want eight regiments to race across the valley and overwhelm the trenches. The other two regiments are to outflank the enemy, one to the north and one to the south. I want this battle over as quickly as possible.”
“You were serious then about leaving the Aertans out of this?” inquired Colonel Ednor.
“I am serious,” replied the general. “I cannot tolerate the whining of the Aertans. They think going to war should be as safe as marching along the roads of the Federation. Well that is not how life is. Besides, we do not need them for this. Let Gertz spend some time with his men teaching them about the realities of war. Before he is done with his speech, we will be on the other side of those trenches resuming the march to Ongchi.”
* * * *
Above and beyond the trench that General Kolling was planning to attack, the remnants of Colonel Wu-sang’s Lanoirian army prepared for a defiant stand. Determined to block the Federation’s drive to Ongchi, the volunteers vowed to fight to the death.
Rut-ki stood in the forest gazing at the back side of a huge ring of abatis. The tall trees had been felled with precision, with their dense branches facing outward. The resulting bulwarks presented an impenetrable fortress just back from the ridge and unseen from the opposite hill. Just beneath where she was standing was a crude tunnel, and she quickly glanced in its direction as a man came crawling through it.
“We are through,” announced the Lanoirian soldier.
Colonel Wu-sang came running from where he had been informing his men about the plan. He halted alongside Rut-ki and watched the soldier rise from the dirt.
“Is it wide enough for even the largest man?” asked the colonel.
“It will do,” answered the soldier. “It will be a tight fit, and the going will be slow, but the men should be able to make it through if they have time to enter the tunnel.”
“Time will be short,” frowned Rut-ki. “You must know that all of the men will not survive. A lone tunnel will not allow enough time for them to escape.”
“The men know this,” nodded the colonel. “Those manning the trench volunteered for the duty, and they did so when they thought the tunnel would not even be completed in time. They are determined to avenge the deaths of their comrades and prevent the enemy from reaching Ongchi.”
The Knight of Alcea nodded sadly. “What about the Federation flankers?”
“We do not have enough men to defend against both flanking movements, but we can harass them. Elandros and his elves will take the northern flank and our cavalry will take the southern flank. The rest is up to the gods.”
“May they smile upon us,” Rut-ki replied solemnly. “The Battle of Lizard Hill will be a bloody landmark in the history of Alcea. Let us hope that it buys General Za-hong the time he needs.”
* * * *
The Federation armies of Team Mya remained in camp even as the sun climbed high in the sky. Inside the large command tent, the ten colonels of the 2nd Corps of the Empire of Barouk gathered to mark the passing of General Fortella. The mood was one of anger, not only for the death of the Baroukan general, but also for the hesitancy of General Whitman to break camp.
“He isn’t holding camp to mourn General Fortella,” complained one of the colonels. “He is afraid to march on Tagaret.”
“I heard that the assassin entered Whitman’s tent,” added another colonel. “Why is he still alive?”
“Maybe the assassin worked for Whitman,” another colonel proposed with a scowl.
“That is nonsense,” declared Colonel Tamora. “Whitman is holding camp because he is afraid to engage the Alceans. We all have heard the stories of the Aertan’s cowardice. We do not need to look for conspiracies to understand his fear of breaking camp.”
“Well,” replied a colonel, “there is a surefire way to break that logjam. One of us needs to be elevated in rank to replace General Fortella. Whitman will have to fall in line then.”
“There is no precedent for colonels deciding who is to become general,” stated Colonel Tamora. “That is for Grand General Kyrga to decide.”
“There is no precedent for Baroukans serving under an Aertan general, either,” scowled one of the colonels. “We cannot expect Grand General Kyrga to come to Alcea to promote one of us. The leadership of the 2nd Corps is in our hands. Now, we can all squabble over who should get the promotion, but I think we need to be united in this, otherwise, General Whitman will object. As much as I want to be general, just like the rest of you, I think it is safe to say that General Fortella had been grooming Tamora for the promotion. I am willing to accept that. What say the rest of you?”
There were murmurs and grumbles for a few minutes, but the colonels eventually nodded in agreement. Colonel Tamora was congratulated and sent to confront General Whitman. He marched out of the large command tent and into the smaller one. The Aertan general looked up anxiously as the Baroukan colonel entered the tent, almost as if he knew the reason for the visit.
“I am assuming command of the 2nd Corps,” Colonel Tamora announced.
“You have no authority to do so,” replied General Whitman. “With the death of General Fortella, I am now the leader of Team Mya and Force Targa. The 2nd Corps will fall under my command.”
“The 2nd Corps is Baroukan,” argued the colonel. “We are to be led by one of our countrymen. The other colonels selected me for the promotion.”
“Selected you?” scoffed the general. “Colonels do not select their generals any more than they can select which orders to obey. You are a member of Team Mya, and as such, you are under my command. You will hold whatever rank I determine you are capable of holding, and you will execute whatever orders I give you. To do otherwise is mutiny, and we both know the punishment for such an offense. Have I made myself clear, Colonel?”
“You have made your views known, General,” snapped the colonel, “but the 2nd Corps is not going to stand around this encampment and wait for the Alcean armies to arrive. Team Mya was tasked to attack Tagaret. Why are we not doing so?”
“You will not question my orders again, Colonel,” the general said threateningly. “This team will move when I order it to do so. You are dismissed.”
The colonel opened his mouth to speak, but the general rose to his feet and angrily pointed towards the tent flap.
“Dismissed!” General Whitman bellowed.
Colonel Tamora pivoted and marched out of the tent. He stormed into the large command tent and told the assembled colonels what had transpired.
“That is unacceptable,” snarled one of the colonels. “I will not be led by an Aertan, and I will not be led by a coward.”
“You are repeating yourself,” one of the colonels said with a mischievous grin as he held out his fist. In his fist were ten splinters of wood, but only the ends were visible. “I expected such a response, and our path is quite clear to me. The short splinter gets the pleasure of killing the cowardly Aertan.”
Chapter 42
Lizard Hill
The hill got its name from the locals who thought it looked like a giant lizard. The ridgeline of Lizard Hill was long and narrow with the tail end tapering off to the south. The northern extreme of the hill had a slight notch in the ridgeline, which separated a small portion of the hill from the larger part of it. The small portion was dubbed the head, and the notch was called the neck. The ridges of the head and the body of Lizard Hill were well forested, but the neck was treeless. The slopes of Lizard Hill, like most of the hills in the area, were bare, a testament to the erosion-prone terrain. A small trench ran half the length of the body just below the ridgeline with the road bisecting it, and it was on that trench that the Federation focused their efforts. At the sound of a whistle, eight thousand Federation soldiers poured out of the trees and ran down the hillside and into the valley. Across the valley, the Lanoirians watched anxiously as the valley began filling with red uniforms.