“Overwhelming odds?” countered the gypsy. “Perhaps you do not fully understand your predicament, General. I may only have three-hundred men manning this barricade, but that is not the total of my resources. I have more than enough men to man this position all day and all night for however long it takes for you to surrender. Your men are not going anywhere, General. They cannot walk their way out of the swamp. They cannot swim out. The only exit is right were you stand, and your men will be cut down as they try to escape.”
“So you say,” retorted the general. “You told Colonel Dukirk that you smuggled goods through the swamp, which was a lie. Why should I believe your words now?”
“I did not lie to Dukirk,” smiled Adan. “I often smuggled things along the road through the swamp, but not since the end of the Darkness. When the Darkness cleared, the rains returned to the land. The swamp has been impassable ever since.”
Adan sighed as the general turned towards the boat.
“General,” Adan called after him, “think about the welfare of your men. You had roaring fires last night, but you used up practically all of the wood available to you. There will be no more campfires, and there will be no food. Your men will be prey to stinging flies and mosquitoes until they are too sick to care. And then the reptiles will feast upon their bodies. Their deaths will be a slow, painful process. Why put your men through that when we are offering safety, food, and shelter?”
The general spun around and faced Adan. “What would you know about our fires?” he asked. “We were leagues away from this place.”
“Just who do you think killed your mages?” asked Adan.
The general opened his mouth to retort that the mages died of natural deaths, but he caught himself before he spoke. The very fact that Adan knew about the deaths led credence to his boast of killing the black-cloaks. The general shut his mouth and glared at the colonel.
“I believe it to be true,” the colonel said softly. “I said nothing because I could not be sure, but the last of the mages died inside his tent.”
“You sicken me, Dukirk,” scowled the general. “You are relieved of your rank.”
The colonel merely nodded, and the general fell silent. He dwelled upon his predicament, but he saw no hope of survival. While the army could survive for a while by eating their horses, they would not even be able to cook the meat without firewood. With a heavy sigh, he turned to face Adan.
“Who are you that you are authorized to accept my surrender?” the general asked. “You wear no uniform.”
“I am Adan, King of the Gypsies. As for my lack of a uniform, this is my Alcea that you are invading. Did you think that only our soldiers would fight your armies? Nay, General. Every able bodied man and woman will stand against the Federation. Many of your peers have already been defeated. Gattas, Montero, and Franz are dead. Ruppert, Hanold, and Somma have surrendered. Testa, Alden, Nunes, Butwin, Ross, and Haggerty are imprisoned. We Alceans have been waiting a long time for your armies to arrive, General. We have plans to defeat every one of them. Be thankful that your lot in this war was one of surrender rather than death. Some of your brethren were not given the chance to make such a choice.”
The general remained silent and pensive. Adan could almost figure out what was going through the man’s mind.
“We know about all twelve teams, General,” Adan said softly. “We have been monitoring the portals for over a year now. We know the location of every secret cache in Alcea, and all of them have been emptied. Every one of the remaining Federation armies is already reduced to foraging, and we are making such foraging a deadly endeavor. So, if you are thinking that you are letting Fortella and Bledsoe down, think again. Neither of their teams will reach Tagaret.”
General Pryblick nodded sadly. Letting his fellow generals down had been exactly what he was pondering, and the Alcean knew far too much to be bluffing. If what Adan had said was true, and the general was ready to accept that it was, the Alceans knew about the portals before he did. That meant that the invasion was sabotaged at the highest levels of the Federation. It was meant to fail from the very beginning. He fumed silently, but he accept his fate.
“How will you extract my men from the swamp?” the general asked.
“We have four boats available,” answered Adan. “We will draw off forty men at a time and lead them to wagons to be transported to the camps. There they will be fed and checked by local healers. When the war is over, they will be repatriated to Zara. No harm will come to them unless they demand it by trying to revolt or escape. Your instructions to the men would be helpful in that regard, General. We truly do not want to harm your men.”
“And our horses?” asked General Pryblick. “Surely you are not thinking of ferrying them by boat?”
“Certainly not,” grinned Adan. “I am a gypsy. I would never harm a horse. After your men are completely evacuated, my men will restore the bridges and lead the horses to safety. The gypsies will welcome them as new additions to the herd.”
Despite the tenseness of the situation, General Pryblick actually laughed. “If nothing else you said was true, you are no doubt a gypsy.”
“All of my words were true, General,” smiled Adan. “I will ask that you instruct your men to abandon their weapons on the island before entering the boats. That is a requirement, not a request.”
General Pryblick nodded. “Have me taken back to my men. I will prepare them for the evacuation.”
* * * *
Lord Kommoron entered the sitting room at his palatial estate in the Sanctum. He stared at his guest with more than a hint of annoyance.
“Why have you come here?” Lord Kommoron scowled.
“We have had an urgent message from King Harowin of Ertak,” answered Grand General Kyrga. “I took the message to Emperor Jaar, but he saw no need to act upon it. I thought you should be informed immediately.”
“You were told to work under Emperor Jaar,” retorted Lord Kommoron. “What is the urgent message?”
“Two of King Harowin’s sons have been assassinated,” reported the Grand General. “He is demanding that General Montero be returned to Ertak immediately.”
“Demanding?” shouted the noble. “Who does he think he is to be demanding anything? Does he not know that we are in the midst of a war? Is he so afraid that the Alceans will hurt his precious heir? What nonsense is this that you disturb me with?”
“You misunderstand, Master,” cowered the Grand General. “King Harowin is not afraid for Montero’s life. The king believes that the general is responsible for the assassinations. In fact, he captured the assassins and interrogated them. They all agreed that they were working under General Montero’s express orders. The king wants his revenge, and he wants it now. King Harowin is threatening to leave the Federation if his demand is denied.”
Lord Kommoron glared at Kyrga, but he turned away from the Grand General before he spoke. Lord Kommoron had the troops necessary in Farmin to force Ertak to rethink its position, but to have Ertak even thinking about pulling out of the Federation was dangerous at this stage of the game. If he used his new armies to crush King Harowin, the other petty monarchs would sit up and take notice. Now was not the time for that to happen. While the noble was thinking about his options, the door opened and a servant entered unbidden. The man approached the noble and whispered something in his ear. Lord Kommoron glanced briefly at the Grand General before wordlessly leaving the room.
The noble made his way to a special room of the mansion. He entered the room and quickly closed the door behind him. He turned around and stared questioningly at the demonkin standing before him.
“I received a message from Tagaret,” explained K’san. “I felt it urgent enough to disturb you.”