In place of a Preface…
This work contains some cruel and bloody episodes.
If you are offended by something like that, you may not want to read any
further. You won't lose much by doing that.
If you wish to continue, I need to warn you
that the first draft of this story appeared on paper one evening after the
author spent all the morning hours playing "Ultimate Doom", and all afternoon
"Civilization II". If you have done something like that, then you will know
what condition the author was in, especially when you take into account those
beer cans he emptied in the process…
Therefore, the mood of the story is dark, as it
belongs to one who dreams to become…
A FANTASY GENERAL
Copyright note.
The Rescue Rangers are property of the Disney
Company, used here without permission. Hopefully, they will leave this poor guy
alone.
Julius Rokfor, Matey, Flavio, Timo, and the
rest of the legionaries are the fruit of my imagination. You may use them
freely, only I don't know how you can do that, as they all are part of Dale's
dreams and most of them die at the end of the story… :-(
Any coincidence with any real incident, present
or past, is purely coincidental.
Copying and distributing of this story is
allowed, as long as it isn't changed, and this portion is included.
My greatest thanks to my friend The J.A.M for
correcting my poor english language and making this story more enjoyable.
The
dice fell with the sound of thunder and rolled a few times before stopping
completely.
"Seven…"
said Admiral Zippo, though the rest the of world leaders could see that for
themselves.
Pharaoh
Dalisra turned over with fear the card that the dice pointed at. His hands were
shaking.
"'Pirate
fleet hits capital city'…It's not fair! I got attacked last year!"
"Life
ain't fair," noticed Emperor Nero, pressing his long moustache.
Princess
Ambrosia leaned to Dalisra's side.
"I'll
help you count it, Dale," she said, while looking over the card values. "Lets
see…Attack strength eight…Defense two… Fortified makes three…Non-veteran
army…No city walls…it seems Alexandria is razed."
"It's
not fair!" Dale screamed, as Gadget calculated the loss of his army powers. It
seemed that Egypt had lost half of her field forces.
"You
lost two chariot legions and two phalanxes…" Gadget at last said. It wasn't
true; she had cheated a little. In reality, the loss of the Egyptian army was
worse than that.
Dale
looked with shock at his decimated army, then without a word he jumped on his
feet, gave the dice a wild kick and ran out of the room—over the huge map of
the Mediterranean placed on the floor.
"Dale,
where are you going?!" Gadget, too, rose from the pillow she was sitting on.
"I'm
out of the game!" the chipmunk screamed, and he was gone, slamming the door
with a wild boom.
The
rest of the Rangers sighed and they, too, started to stand up from their
places. The game was only at its midpoint, but it seemed it wouldn't continue…
Monterey
walked out from the garage and found Dale standing at an open window, looking
out at the city park.
"Now,
now, mate," he said slowly, placing his arm around the chipmunk's shoulders.
"It's only a game. Don't loose your temper for loosing one…"
"One?"
Dale sighed deeply.
"Okay,
you lost a few, but…"
"I
lost all the games this week…I never win! It's always Chip or Gadget! And
sometimes when they can't agree on influence spheres, you take first place.
Even Zipper got it two times! Only I get beat always!"
"It's
your temper, Dale," Chip declared, joining the pair at the window. "You always
go for 'All or Nothing'. Thus you always loose."
"And
you cheat!" Dale snapped.
"What?"
Chip inhaled angrily. "What did you say?"
"You
heard me!" Dale cut back. "You cheat, Mister Chip!"
"And
that's coming from Mister I-cheat-now-try-to-catch-me?" Chip boiled with anger.
"Hey,
boys, stop it," Monty placed himself between the chipmunks. He had a bad
feeling about this begin to rise.
"He
always twists the rules for his victory!" Dale accused.
"Only
because you are too lazy to memorize them!"
"And
you always hit me when I'm not ready!" Chip only laughed in reply at this
argument.
Zipper
buzzed over Chip and landed on Monty's shoulder. "Gadget asks if we will
continue…"
"You
cheat!"
"And
you're stupid!"
"Guess
not," Zipper shrugged and took off, heading back to the garage.
By
now both chipmunks had entered into that wild chatter phrase when no one could
understand what they were saying to one another.
"ENOUGH!"
Monterey suddenly roared.
There
was silence. Zipper made a loop and landed on the back of a chair.
"You
both are nuts!" Monterey added in a more normal voice. "It's only a game!"
"He
always wins!" Dale pointed at Chip. "He cheats!"
"I
win because you're stupid."
Dale
jumped on Chip.
He
forgot that there was Monty still between them. The mouse easily caught him by
his shirt's collar and held him up in the air. With the other hand, he
similarly caught Chip.
"Tell
Gadget to count the scores and pack up the game," Monty turned to Zipper. "I
will take the boys on a short walk outside."
And
he headed toward the door, dragging both screaming and angry chipmunks with
him.
Gadget
sighed and started to slowly count the various pieces Zipper got off from the
map and into game box. With one ear she listened to the sounds coming from the
landing platform outside…
It
all started a month ago. One day their good friend Sparky, the white lab mouse,
showed up together with his companion, Buzz the guinea pig—and a large carton box.
They explained to the surprised Rangers that it was a year ago today that the
Rangers had helped get them out of Mad Scientist Norton Nimnul's hands and
start a new life. And for this they had made a present for them.
The
present turned out to be the board game "Civilization." However, it was not the
standard one. That one, as far as Gadget knew, was still selling by the name
"Avalon Hills." Buzz and Sparky had created their own variation of the game,
using their own map of the Mediterranean, and their own rules. Sure, there were
many borrowings, both from "Avalon Hills" and from "Microprose," as Sparky had
said, but even with the general idea, originality couldn't be denied.
They
had played the game that same evening, after a banquet that the Rangers hastily
made with the help of their other friends.
That
time Gadget didn't join them, allowing Tammy to play in her place. "It's stupid
to kill your time playing kids' games," she had thought to herself then.
The
results of the game weren't very surprising. Sparky came out on first place,
and Buzz was tied for second place with Tammy, who showed unsuspected knowledge
of tactic and strategy. *Maybe some of it had been used when Tammy used her
charming looks to get Chip's attention from the game*, Gadget smiled.
Gadget
smiled again, looking at the handmade figures they used now. After a few games,
she, surprising to herself, had found it worth the time. It was a challenge to
the intellect to try to outsmart the others in the game, where all was open to
others except your mind. By now only the minor handicap of Chip's experience
had kept him in first place, but that had melted fast.
After
a few changes and additions she had done to the game, each also chose a
civilization they played for. She fell in love with Greece. It had enough land
and sea to develop whatever she was in the mood for. Monty had chosen Rome. "I
like being Emperor Nero!" he stated. "And I will rule this world!" In reality
the Romans weren't ruling that much, because in most cases they always were
locked in war with the Greeks for the north coast of the Mediterranean.
The
chipmunks divided Africa in half. Chip got Carthage and the western half; Dale
got Egypt and the eastern half. Like her and Monty, they usually were locked
into war between themselves. Zipper got one of the remaining civilizations—The
Kilikilians. Maybe for their island colonies and fleets, or whatever the small
fly had in his head. Or maybe for the possibility to annex whatever he wanted,
too.
But,
when guests arrived—Sparky had come sometimes, and Tammy more than sometimes,
not counting Foxglove, who had become the sixth member of the Rangers—they let
the dice choose the powers for the players, and use the rest of the free
places—Gauls, Iberians, and Babylonians.
This
game wasn't her lucky one, though. Locked in a dead fight with the Romans on
land, and having the Kilikilian fleet—Roman ally—raiding her shores, she was
barely able to defend himself, not thinking much to help Dale. Dale, by the
way, had thrown all of his army over the desert to Carthaginian lands. At
first, the mass attack got results—he conquered one oasis and razed another.
But then again, Chip had built few fortifications on the mountains, and
Pharaoh's army had suffered heavy losses trying to conquer them. While Dale
spent his forces on mountain forts, Chip had rebuilt his army and made a
counterattack. Passing Dale's army, his forces had broken through the shores to
the Nile, pillaged a lot, and now threatened to conquer the main Egyptian
cities. Then came the two Pirate raids, and Alexandria fell. With that, Dale
had lost both the war and the game.
In
the scoreboard, it still looked different. Monty was first, Chip second, Dale
third, Zipper fourth, and Gadget fifth. Still, after a few turns Chip would have
been first and Dale last, and maybe she herself could have beaten those
Kilikilians on the sea and got third place.
Gadget
folded the map, put it over the dice and game figures, and closed the box.
Today's game was over.
She
turned her ears as very loud squeaks came from outside, and smiled sadly. Monty
was heroically trying to teach those two chipmunks a lesson they didn't want to
learn. She knew that now Monty was using much harder words that he would not
allow himself in her presence. Nevertheless, those two were stubborn ones.
She
could understand Dale. He had lost too many games in a row to live patiently
with it. But why spill his anger on others? It was Dale's own fault. He always
played on a risk board, and many times over it. He didn't understand terms like
second-defense-line, reserve, or maneuver. He went straightforward. Sometimes
that helped, but most of the time he was so predictable…
Gadget
feared that today was the last day they would try to play the game…
Dale
turned and tossed in his bed. Anger still was within him, but by now it was
mixed with shame.
He
understood that it was irrational. It was only a game, as both Monty and Gadget
had said. And Chip was his best friend, in fact, his only friend, before they
met Gadget, Monty, and Zipper.
Monty
had managed to get them both to become friends again. Chip had apologized, and
he was forced to do the same. But what would happen the next time they tried to
get a party together?
He
didn't notice when he fell asleep.
"Wake
up, slugs!"
Dale
winced and stretched lazily. The voice resembled Monty's, but it was deeper and
even lower than a mouse's, not to mention that Monty was always polite at home.
"Mark,
hurry up!" the voice bellowed again.
"Mark?"
Dale lazily wondered, still with closed eyes. "Who is Mark?"
"Dale!
You #$& of a $%&@#! Out!"
A
hard kick on his lower end was the last thing Dale expected from his big
friend. Not to mention that Dale's bunk was the upper one, and Monty would need
to do some acrobatic trick to reach him that way.
The
chipmunk rolled over, opened his eyes…and stood still…
He
was on a rough floor inside a low and long building, and he wasn't alone!
Around him were some other chipmunks hastily standing up and packing their
beds…
Straw
beds?
Dale
pinched himself. It hurt.
"What's
up, Dale?! Hurry! Breakfast's now!"
A
big mouse with black fur trotted to the next sleeper.
"Wake
up, Flavie!"
A
similar kick sent the victim out of his place like Dale.
Dale
was spared from looking stupid by a voice from his left.
"Better
do as the centurion orders, or we all end up without breakfast!"
Dale
looked at the owner of the voice. It was a middle-aged chipmunk. He had already
rolled his piece of bedcover and placed it at one end of the straw pile.
"Who
is he?"
"Do
as I do, and don't ask! Quick, he is returning!"
Dale
found it better to obey.
"Still
drunk from yesterday? I will beat that out of your head!" the black mouse bellowed
from the middle of the room. "Out on the plaza! Hop, hop, hop! Two laps around
and back!"
The
poor victim disappeared through the doors.
The
mouse walked closer.
This
time Dale had a better chance to look at him, and he gasped. The mouse looked
exactly like the figure Gadget had made for their game…
"I'm
dreaming," he whispered.
Unfortunately,
the mouse heard that.
"I
will show you dream!" he bellowed. "Out! Two laps around the plaza and back!
Move!"
The
wide mouse-sized sword hanging from the mouse's belt told Dale it was better to
obey.
"AND
HURRY UP, TEODEN!" he heard, as he ran out of the building.
The
first thing he noticed was a huge palace on the other side of the plaza. The
second was the fact that ten mice guarded the palace with similar costumes as
the black one in the dormitory. The third was that the palace was built for a
mouse…either he had grown VERY big overnight…
Or,
he still was dreaming…
"Hurry
up, or Roci will twist you into a circle!" said the other chipmunk, quickly
running by. Dale started after him, but soon he was hopelessly left behind…
Dale
ended his second lap and ran back to the entrance. On the way inside, his
attention was caught by the big letters over the entrance: "Nutcrackers Fifth."
Inside
he found his bed without difficulty—it was the only one still not ready. The
rest of the chipmunks and a few mice and squirrels—Dale noticed that the
chipmunks outnumbered the other animals here by seven to one—were already
standing at attention near their beds. It also helped that the black mouse was
standing near his place, waiting for Dale to approach…
"Okay,
let's see how fast you can get ready. I'm counting. Start! One! Two! Three!
Four…!"
One
hour later Dale was not sure if he was still dreaming. No nightmare was as bad
as this. His fur was wet with sweat, his stomach was twisting into nine knots
without breakfast, and centurion Julius Rokfor was mad as hell at him.
The
rest of day was only worse. He was late for lunch—he forgot the way to it, and
no one bothered to help him before it was too late. In the afternoon, Julius
was again in the barracks—by that time Dale had found out that these were the
barracks of the famous "Fifth Nutcrackers" legion of the city of Bengazi—and
they got a few morning victims "to drill." The drill consisted of running in
laps around the plaza while Julius stood in the middle and counted.
Then
followed supper, that, happily, Dale managed to get, and all of them were put
back in the dorms and ordered to sleep.
The
next day began with the sunset—a hard test for those who were tired from
yesterday. This time, Julius brought them all out from the barracks and they
ran into the districts of the city, out through a huge gate, and then around
the city. Julius ran last, with the side of his sword hurrying those who
lagged.
For
Dale it was another chance to see that it was all only a dream, as he saw
humans nowhere near. In fact, all the surroundings were like the ones made for
humans, only that the mice, squirrels, chipmunks, and rats used them in their
place. There were ships with mouse-crews at sea, cat-pulled chariots and wagons
on the streets, shops and markets filled with mice and rats…
Only
one fact kept him from making a run for it. When Julius hit him with the back
of his sword, it felt real. Too real to risk testing what would happen if
Julius put the blade to use…
It
went like that for a few days, until Julius once showed up in the barracks
together with other mice in bronze breastplates and helmets.
"Yes,
they are ready to get together with the rest of the 'Nutcrackers'," Julius said
proudly. "No one tried to run away, no one pulled a fight against me!"
Both
were lies, as Dale knew. There were attempts to run away. Both had failed. In
the first case, Julius simply beat the deserters and threw them back into the
barracks. In the second case, three mice got into a serious fight with the
centurion, using stolen knives and a club. Still, Julius proved capable of
beating them all. One died, and the two others got only heavily beat up…
"Good,
Julius. There is a campaign in progress, and we need new forces as fast as
possible. Tomorrow bring them to the armory and arm them, and then you will be
met by the rest of the centuries."
The
armory turned out to be a low brick building near the city gate, at the north
side of a large plaza. There, Dale's century met with five other centuries to
form a legion. Also, they each got a similar set of armor and weapons as their
centurion.
Dale
not without trouble learned how to put on the bronze breastplate and tie the
arm and leg covers in their place. Luckily, one of the middle-aged legionaries
helped him. Then there was a wide leather belt, with a short but heavy sword
attached to it, a helmet with cheek-guards and a few ostrich feathers on top,
sandals, a large wooden shield covered with bronze and iron strips, and three
short spears.
Soon
they all again were standing on the plaza, in straight ranks. The first rows
formed the youngest, Dale among them, the middle was the oldest, and the last
ranks contained middle-aged legionaries.
Dale
looked around and saw their centurion and a group of other officers greeting a
middle-aged mouse, who rode into the plaza on the back of a cat.
"Greet
your commander Timo!" bellowed Julius.
The
legion responded by clanking their swords against their shields.
The
mouse stepped down from the cat and looked over the ranks. He said something,
but so quietly, no one except the officers heard it. But Dale saw Julius
straightening, as before a battle. One second later he shrugged back down.
Then,
Timo turned toward the legion.
"I
see you all are brave and ready to fight for your homeland!"
The
reply was a roar.
"It
maybe isn't a surprise to you that we are at war with our neighbors—the
devilish Carthageans!"
This
time the roar was louder. Dale understood it: he had found out that most of the
recruits—one-fifth part at least—had lost their homes in Carthagean raids.
"In
a better time you would stay longer in the city, learn how to use your weapons,
how to attack and retreat, and not loose coordination. But times are difficult!
We need to stop a Carthagean attack! By all means! Thus, we will march and
learn on the way! Death to Carthage!"
"Death!
Death! Death!"
The
roar was mad. The legionaries clanked their weapons and bellowed. But Dale saw
that Julius' face was dark. The black mouse was disagreeing with their
commander.
"We
will leave tomorrow, with the first rays of the sun! But now—back to the
barracks! Your centurions will teach you how to use your weapons before supper
time."
Timo
jumped back up on the cat and rode away. The centurions bellowed commands, and
the legion split up and headed back to its home.
Unusually,
Julius didn't roar on the way back, and did not attack when a few squirrels started
to get tired and walk slower.
Dale,
together with the rest of the century, stood in a circle around Julius and a
large mouse with gray fur. Both legionaries were fully armed.
"I
will show you only once. The sword is for cutting, not piercing, for those who
don't know it already. You say, 'but the enemy cowers behind a shield?' No
shield will hold long against a good sword. The shield is for covering from
enemy thrown rocks, spears, and arrows. The only defense against a sword is a
sword. Thus, the main tactic is to deny the enemy the chance to use his weapon.
Defend, Matey!"
And
Julius began his attack. Matey first tried to block the blows with his sword
and counterattacked, but soon had enough trouble to simply stop Julius from
killing him. And Matey's shield began crumbling piece after piece. A few more
blows, a kick, and Matey was lying on the ground.
"Good!"
Julius said, lowering his sword.
"This
is a tactic—one on one. But in battle it never works. No wise enemy will allow
you to beat his comrade dead simply to avoid being the next target. Similarly,
you will never—I repeat—never allow the enemy to pick you out one by one. The
legion's power is its unity. Break ranks, and you are dead. Thus we begin to
learn to fight in ranks."
By
that time Matey had gained back his breath and part of his courage.
"Okay,
Matey. Pick nine boys for your decuria. From this moment, you're my first
decurion. Fabio!"
"Yes!"
"Pick
another nine for your decuria. Then clear a larger area."
A
few minutes later, there were two groups of ten legionaries standing one
against another. Julius had ordered the iron swords replaced with wooden
pieces, but the rest of the equipment was real.
"Okay,
there is a theory: a few men advancing as one will have an advantage against
the same number of men fighting individually. Why? Because they will cover one
another's back, not allowing the enemy to temporary gain the upper hand over
one of them, and not allowing the surrounding of one of their members. In
practice, it is not always that. Why? Because these grouped men need to be
trained to use their advance effectively. Otherwise, they will only mess up one
another, and the individuals will break their ranks and defeat them anyway.
Matey! You will organize rank and advance. Fabio! Your order: hold them back by
any means. Go!"
Julius
stepped aside.
Matey
said a few quick commands, and his decuria, which contained mostly heavy and
burly mice and only four chipmunks, formed a single-man row, put their shields
together, and started to advance on Fabio's group. The chipmunks walked in the
middle, and the mice defended the sides.
Fabio,
being a squirrel, had picked his men mostly similar to him: fast and agile.
There were two other squirrels, a mouse, and the rest were chipmunks—medium sized.
He, too, said a few quick commands, and his men broke in two parts. One formed
a wedge and aimed it straight on Matey's center. The other ran aside, trying to
go around Matey's left flank.
A
roar, and Fabio in the wedge point ran forward. He and six other legionaries at
his back slammed into Matey's shield wall. It leaned back, and Matey's flanks
tried to surround Fabio's group. At that moment, three of Fabio's reserved men
attacked from the left. A moment later, there wasn't anything left of Matey's
rank, and his men were fighting against a faster enemy.
"Stop!"
Julius bellowed. "Stay on your places!"
The
legionaries stood still, while Julius walked around their groups.
"Good
work, Fabio. Though in a real battle you would be dead," he at last said. "On
this you see both the advantages and weakness of fighting in ranks and
individually. Both leaders made mistakes. Matey."
The
mouse stepped forward. His one ear had been torn in the battle, and he felt
uncomfortable, as he had picked the best men from the centuria and lost with
them against a weaker enemy.
"First
mistake. Never make one part of your rank weaker than others, unless you plan
to use it as a trap for the enemy. Fabio will not break your center if you put
a mouse between the chipmunks here to strengthen it. Second: Never ignore an
enemy who goes behind your back. These three of Fabio's boys were the weakest,
but they did the victory precisely by messing up your ranks. Third: the
surrounding attempt was good, but it will never work with so little forces as
you have. Centuria against centuria may be different. But overall, you fight
well. Now Fabio."
The
squirrel stepped forward and stood side by side with Matey.
"First
mistake: Never ram against a shield wall. Too many losses, and there's the
chance it can fail. Second: the leader never goes into attack at the spear
point. In the first ranks, but never the first. In real life, with your death,
your unit would become disoriented and defeated. But anyway, you fight good."
Both
legionaries began to look proud.
"Good.
Matey, Fabio. Get your decuries, relax, and prepare yourself. Demetrey, Tacit,
pick your nine men and form ranks. We will see how a legion fights against a
legion."
Dale
still waited. Demetrey's unit put a hard fight but then lost to Tacit's unit,
allowing Julius to tell another story about group tactic failures. Then
Abraham's broken ranks defeated Grenel's shield wall, and Julius again broke
into long tale about the need to keep place together with friends, shoulder to
shoulder. A big half of the centuria had already been picked out.
"Hasion!
Dale! Pick your decuries!" Dale suddenly heard.
At
first, the chipmunk's eyes grew as big as supper bowls, but Julius didn't let
him dream long.
"Move!
There isn't much to choose from!"
Dale
looked over the ranks of chipmunks standing beside him. What to do?
He
looked at the aged chipmunk, whose bed was near his.
"West,"
the chipmunk said his name, standing near Dale.
"Who
should I choose next?" Dale whispered.
"I
suggest picking Teoden," West pointed at a tall chipmunk near the front of then
ranks. "Then maybe Gordo, and Flavius."
"You
pointed at all the ones who earned a yell from Julius," Dale whispered back.
"Yes.
Julius may be a bellower, but he is a good commander. He can't say good words
to us, so he yells at us. But he chose you as a decurion, and that means
something."
Soon
Dale had ended his pick. With the three chipmunks West had pointed at, he got
the last remaining squirrel, Quint, and two mouse brothers Tam and Tem. Both
were short, but tough. Then at last he got two more chipmunks: Samual and
Gedet.
Hasion
had chosen only chipmunks.
"Okay,
get ready both of you!" Julius ordered. "Dale! You defend a position." The
centurion dropped his shield on the ground, marking "position." "Hasion, your
order: break Dale out from this place. Either defeat him or make him retreat.
And you need to do this while I'm counting. Go!"
"Form
a circle!" Dale ordered. His men did as he said. It was fortunate he had managed
some order, as the next moment Hasion's men rushed toward him, trying to break
his position before Dale got oriented. For a few seconds Dale was locked into a
dead fight with the enemy chipmunk, but then West attacked him from the side.
Together, they defeated the enemy, and then the rush was over. Dale had lost
"dead" four men, Hasion, three. But Dale still held his place.
"Another
attack, and we loose," West said in a low voice.
"Somewhat
uncomfortable being 'dead'," Dale agreed.
"If
we may be able to maneuver, there may be hope, but we are tied to this piece of
ground," West noted.
"Any
ideas?" Dale turned to his group. There weren't any.
Sure
enough, Hasion's men had formed a wedge, and the attack started again. Again,
Dale and his group were defending against the enemy. After a few minutes of
swordfights and shield breaking, the enemy retreated.
Dale
had only three men now—himself, West and Tam, one of the mouse brothers. But
they still held their place. Hasion, too had three remaining—Tem, before he
"died", had put out two enemies.
"Three
against three," Julius grinned. "I think there isn't any hope for the
defenders."
Dale
hissed in anger. He heard how the rest of the centuria were placing bets on how
may men Hasion will have after the victory.
The
fight resumed. With the first blows, both sides lost one member—Tam picked out
the most dangerous fighter of the enemy and charged. He managed to "kill" him,
but he himself was "killed" by his companions.
Hasion
looked at Dale questioningly, then chose West to fight against him. His friend
advanced on Dale.
"Backs
together," West whispered, and they stood on the shield, back to back, raising
shields and swords to meet the attack.
The
fight; however, was stopped by Julius. "Time out, Hasion," he said. "Dale won.
Anyway, after your victory, there will be no men left to defend it."
There
was little more. Julius picked out two remaining decurions and divided the rest
of the centuria in half to form them.
"Good,
Rabbit Brothers!" Julius grinned, looking at the decuries standing on the
plaza. "Lets see how you will fight in larger companies. Matey, pick three more
decuries."
The
mouse looked at the groups. "I choose Fabio, Tacit, and Abraham," he said,
choosing the winners from the previous fights.
"Wise
election," Julius grinned. "Who may I put against you now? Okay, Hasion, you
get the rest. The order is simple. Matey defends shield, Hasion attacks. Go!"
The
decurions looked at one another.
"Have
we some time to plan?" Demetrey asked.
"Nope!
And time is running. The defenders need to hold out long enough, and they win."
"Okay,
mass attack!" Hasion ordered.
"No,
it will do nothing!" Demetrey shouted.
"Try
to drive a wedge up to the shield," Grenel said.
Simeon
and Aran remained silent, as they still learning from their decuries.
"You
saw how my men held out against Hasion?" Dale said slowly. "Maybe we need to
walk to them as a shield wall?"
"They
have better men than us—Matey got the heaviest ones."
"But
three others are light ones. Demetrey and Grenel may form a wall, with Simeon
and Aram as a second line to reinforce them, and we both go as flanks."
"So
wise, heh?" Hasion grinned.
"Hey,
its better than that mad forward charge." Grenel picked up Dale's side.
"Time
is running," Julius said sarcastically. From Matey's men there came out some
laughter.
"Do
as I said!" Dale ordered.
"Julius
picked me as commander!" Hasion cut back.
"If
we talk a little more we lose by any plan," Demetrey noted.
"I
said: charge!" Hasion roared.
With
roars, all sixty Legionaries without any order began to storm Matey's position.
Not surprisingly, soon they had many losses. Matey, too, had lost some men, but
the proportion had shifted in his favor. Hasion was "killed" in the charge he
led. The other decurions had survived. Most of the losses had been suffered by
both "green" decuries and Hasion's own.
"What
now?" Demetrey sighed.
"There
still is my plan," Dale voiced.
"We
have lost good men to put up a wall," Grenel noted.
"There
isn't any other way we can defeat them quickly. Form ranks two men deep. What
remains from Hasion's decurie, join mine. West, get half of them, you will
cover the left side, and I get the right. Go!"
The
fight started again. Dale's trick helped a little—Matey's men held their ground,
and the loosened decuries of attackers didn't get enough power to move them.
Yet the shield wall tactic proved more useful than a mad charge—the losses on
both sides were equal. By the time when the wall center was ready to break and
Dale order a retreat, the power balance was shifted back to his side.
"Time
out," Julius said, when Dale was ready to repeat the attack. "Matey wins,
Hasion looses. Dale, pick one man from Hasion's decuria to change West's place.
Hasion, you're lowered to ordinary legionary. West, you get command of Hasion's
decuria."
There
were gasps and looks. Dale picked another chipmunk in West's place, and they
parted.
"Good.
Grenel, pick three decuries and start to defend your position. Fabio, you
command the rest. Go."
The
rest of the day came and went with war games, with breaks only to eat quickly.
In the evening, with the sun setting, the centuria went to the barracks and
fell asleep.
The
next day began with the arrival of Timo. After a short talk with him, Julius
called all the centuria together.
"All
right boys, the campaign is simple. We march to Carthage and conquer all we
meet in the way."
Through
the ranks of legionaries ran a whisper of disagreement that slowly died under
Julius' dark look.
"Anyone
has something to say?" the centurion asked.
"It's
suicide!" came a voice from the middle of the group.
"Maybe.
But our Pharaoh Dalisra, long life to him, ordered that. And we will do that!"
Julius shouted.
"Pharaoh
Dalisra…" Dale whispered. It was the name he used in the game! "I'm really
dreaming!"
"Our
commander Timo Mantika has already left with the rest of the centuries. Our
centuria was picked to guard the goods we are bringing. Matey, Grenel! Start to
prepare the wagons! Fabio! You will go out of the city on the vanguard! The
rest, we have a store to empty! Go!"
Dale
fell down under the shadow of a palm tree on the side of an oasis, not having
the strength to do anything anymore. They had walked all day under the baking
sun. One short break to eat, and again march.
Julius
kept quiet all day, except on some critical situations. Maybe he, too, got
tired from the march?
The
next day was a copy of the previous. Same mindless marching, same sun overhead,
and same dust from the sands that got into the most unimaginable places.
Somewhere around midday, the centuria came across a razed city. The canals were
filled with sand, the roads were leading nowhere, ruins…
The
third day brought some differences, but Dale wasn't sure if that would be for
the better or worse. First, they were far, but with each step, the rocks came
closer and closer. And somewhere up inside them was a fort the Carthageans
defended against the Egyptian army. A fort the Egyptian army wanted in order to
continue their attack.
Before
midday Fabio's decuria joined them.
As
soon as they had ended today's march, Julius called together all the decurions.
"They
are waiting for us," Fabio began his story. "One of our diplomats managed to
climb into their fort. There are three veteran phalanxes fortified at the top
of the mountain, inside the fortress."
"Why
not go around it?" Matey asked the question they all felt.
"This
is the only pass in the mountains, and here is the road," Julius said sadly.
"We need this fort to secure our backs. Otherwise, Carthage may easily throw
their cavalry over this pass in their raids against us. And also Pharaoh
Dalisra personally ordered to capture of this fort."
"Pharaoh
Dalisra is a fool," Fabio said slowly. "We will lose too many good men to beat
them out from that rock nest Pharaoh Dalisra wants for his property."
"You
speak treacherously," Julius replied in the same slow voice. But he didn't move
to try to stop him. Dale suddenly understood that their centurion had the same
thoughts in his mind as they did.
"If
saying the truth is treachery, then what is there left to do?"
The
morning began with new alarms. By nighttime there came more and more of the
power of Egypt, and now there were grouped four full legions, unfortunately
only the "Grain Cutters Third" were veterans, the other three—including
"Nutcrackers Fifth"—were rookies, two chariot groups—one from Alexandria, the
other from Thebes—and two cavalry groups. No catapults, though.
Julius
came running back to his centuria from the commander's meeting.
"The
plan is simple as always. The chariots begin. These fools from Thebes wanted to
be the ones to open the attack, and they got it. With a little chance some of
them will survive…if we only got here a few phalanxes and catapult units…"
"When
will we start?" Fabio asked.
"'The
Grain Cutters' will go straight after the chariots, then the 'Red Hats', and
then us, and the 'Bullfrogs' will be last."
"And
the cavalry?"
"They
are for raids when the fort falls. So get ready. It's the last time to check
your weapons and memorize orders. And remember, if some pig thinks he can stay
back, then be aware that I will go as the last one, and any panicky ones die
from my sword. Go!"
The
legions gathered near the fortress, out of arrow-range, and looked at how the
chariot units prepared their assault.
The
Thebans opened the attack. With yells and cheers, they began a mad run up to
the fortress walls. The defenders met them with clouds of arrows and rocks. For
some time Dale couldn't make out anything from the dust clouds around the
fortress, but then from it appeared a few cats with broken harnesses, and a few
beat up drivers. From fifty chariots there escaped only six, all damaged.
"They
knocked out one phalanx from the defenders. Good," Julius said, looking at the
fortress walls. Dale looked more closely at the remains lying around it that
only a few moments before were the same living beings as him.
The
Alexandrians began as soon as it was clear that no more survivors had
retreated. Again, there were cheers and yells, a roar of anger and pain, and
again, only a few chariots returned from the raid. The rest joined their
friends at the slopes of the hill.
"It
is going better than expected," Julius grinned, looking over the defenders. "The
second phalanx is defeated. Less work remains for us. Now look closely. There's
a big chance that we will get out without a fight, but who knows…"
The
legionaries held their weapons tighter as the "Grain Cutters" formed ranks and
began their advance on the fortress.
Unlike
the chariots, which were uphill in no time, the legionaries advanced in a trot,
like in a march. They stepped forward, despite the arrows raining over them. Dale
saw one by one falling unluckily, but their friends stepped over them and went
further.
"Why
don't they run?" someone asked the question Dale had in his mind.
"The
shields cover them. In a run, the losses will be more, and their ranks will
mess up." Julius replied, not looking away from the battle.
"Cover?"
Fabio spat, as a few more "Grain Cutters" fell out of rank.
"There
is always a chance to fall, but when you get up, you will see that their
shields are filled with Carthagean arrows."
At
last, the legionaries had reached the walls. They began climbing over them,
using poles with branches as ladders. Others threw their spears at the
defenders who pulled their heads over the rampart.
The
"Grain Cutters" managed destroy their enemy—the phalanx. But they also found
out that at night the Carthageans had added more garrisons to the fortress. The
remains of the "Grain Cutters" retreated.
Dale
looked at the Legionaries. The "Grain Cutters" had lost around two thirds of
their staff, but they still kept their ranks in their retreat.
Then
the "Red Hats" began their attack. The legion walked steadily halfway up the
hill, but then…
At
first Dale didn't understand what happened.
"No, no, no! Fools! Don't run!" Julius cried out.
The
legionaries saw in shock how some groups of attackers broke, turned around, and
ran down. Their officer tried to stop them, but too late. Soon the rest of the
legion, too, stopped, and messed up. Under a rain of arrows, they ran back in
panic.
Dale
looked in shock at the defeated legion. It had less members remaining than the
"Grain Cutters," who walked up to the walls and fought…
"That's
war for you. Always more fall in the run than in the fight itself," Julius
commented in a dark voice. "Remember that. And get ready. We now need to do
what these fools failed to do."
Dale
got into his place in the ranks with fear. As one of the youngest, he was
placed in the second row, with most of his decuria around him.
"Remember!
Cover yourself and your neighbors! Don't break ranks! Don't play heroes and
stay with the rest!" Julius gave the final advice before the trumpets signaled
their turn. "Don't run!"
The
trumpets cried unpleasantly, and the legion started its way up.
Dale
walked in stride with his decuria. He knew he needed to show courage to his
group, but he didn't feel any remaining. All he saw were corpses lying before
him. A legionary…a cat filled with arrows…an overturned chariot, his driver
lying under it…
The
remains of "Red Hats" could be easily identified, as they were shot in their
backs. Dale understood for the first time why legionaries got armor only in the
front: to win or die…
"Keep
the ranks!" Timo shouted over the legion.
"Keep
the ranks!" the centurions repeated.
An
unpleasant whistle, and Gordo two places east from Dale fell over. More
whistles, and there were more empty places appearing between the legionaries.
"Fill
the ranks!" Timo shouted.
"Fill
the ranks!" the centurions repeated.
The
back rows pulled faster to fill the free places. The legion advanced.
"Tan-ng!"
Dale
wondered why his shield suddenly became heavier.
A
scream, and Quint fell on his knees, holding his head. Blood ran over his
fingers, staining his fur red.
"Fill
the ranks!" Timo shouted.
"Fill
the ranks!" Dale heard other centurions repeating. But he didn't hear Julius'
voice this time.
The
chipmunk took a risk and looked back, only to see the big black mouse lying
between other fallen legionaries, with blood covering his chest, and his shield
lying nearby.
"Fill
the ranks!" Matey cried in Julius' place.
The
fortress came closer and closer.
There
were already poles standing at the wall, and the legion used the ones they
dragged along to climb up the walls. They stepped over the dead, raised the
poles, and began climbing the walls like ants. By now, there were more and more
losses, as the legionaries couldn't cover anymore all their sides with shields.
"Use
spears!" Timo shouted.
"Use
spears!" the centurions repeated.
A
cloud of spears cleared the defenders from the wall for a moment, and with
yells, the first legionaries got over its top. Dale wasn't among them; he was
still down at the foot of the wall.
"Beat
them!" Timo shouted, climbing one of the ladders, while the legionaries prepared
their invasion platform on top of it.
Dale
got over the walls with the remains of his centuria. But the battle wasn't over
yet. The enemy still defended fiercely each corner and each rock, and the
legionaries paid a bloody price for each foot of ground they gained.
By
now Dale, too, had blooded his sword, when a group of phalankers tried to stop
his decuria from advancing. Covering with their shields, his group walked
closer to them and put their swords to use. The phalankers pushed forward their
long spears, but they were too few to do it effectively. The swords cut the
spear poles, and then their owners.
By
now Dale's decuria had lost two more. Gratis, who was in West's place, was
pierced by a spear, but Tam was shot by an arrow. The six remaining walked
forward with the rest of the legion, cutting down any resistance.
Not
quickly, but slowly, the battle died. The legion had won.
Dale
stood in rank with the remains of his decuria and listened to how Timo was
talking about the glory of the day, and that their heroism would be put into
the annals of history. He himself thought about the battle and all the friends
that were lost in it…
The
"Nutcrackers Fifth," too, had suffered heavy losses. More than half of the
legionaries found their death at this unnamed hill. But the legion was still
battle-capable, and after a short rest, they would march further. The
"Bullfrogs" got out without a fight, and now they felt somewhat uneasy when the
"Grain Cutters" and the "Nutcrackers" together feasted their victory. No one
noticed the defeated "Red Hats," sitting unarmed at a corner of the fortress.
There would be no more legion with that name…
There
were also both groups of chariots, with the Thebans pulling the Alexandrians
with their teeth. The cavalry left on a raid as soon as the last enemy had been
defeated. They promised to drag some Carthagean girls along for the legionaries
on their way back.
Dale
wasn't cheering for victory. He sat alone beside the campfire and looked over
at the joyful camp.
Dale
sat and thought. What was he doing here? Was it real? Or was it some very vivid
dream? But the cut in his leg was painful, he was tired, and it all seemed so
real…
"May
we join you?" he heard a voice.
Lifting
his head, he saw Fabio, Matey, and Grenel standing behind him.
"Sure,"
Dale said.
"We
need to talk," Fabio said in a low voice.
"There
is much loss in our centuria. We need to fill places. And I want your help,
friend," Matey looked at the flames rising up to a dark blue sky.
"Matey
was temporary placed as our centurion," Fabio spat in the fire. "Only until
some aristocrat comes to claim Matey's post…"
"Julius
was good centurion…" Grenel sighed. "A harsh one, but good. There is little
chance a new one will be the same as him. We want Matey to be our leader
officially."
"If
we all get together, we can place new decurions and choose the best men from
'Red Hats' remains, and then we will show that we are the best legion in all of
Egypt." Fabio at last said what these three were after. "Then we will live and
fight as we want, and not running into a wall with our heads. Are you with us?"
Dale
thought.
"Yes,
I'm with you," he said, after a long silence.
"Good.
Matey already had some decurions in mind," Fabio said quickly. "Remember that
tomorrow morning."
But
the plans of a morning turnaround went to hell, as the scouts brought back news
of a large army of Carthageans advancing toward the fortress.
Instead
of choosing, "Red Hats" was quickly divided between the two other legions and
they all began to fortify. But the legionaries felt nervous. They were sure
that they weren't as brave as the Carthageans were yesterday. More panic was
raised with the return of a few defeated cavaliers: all that remained from the
two herds that proudly rode out yesterday.
That
afternoon, Dale could see the Carthageans placing camp on the other side of the
fortress—four chariot groups, two phalanxes, and three cavalries. Enough to
beat the Egyptians out of the fortress. And Dale knew that once their cavalry
got over there would be no one to stop them before the walls of Alexandria…
The
Egyptians went to sleep in a bad mood.
The
following morning brought even worse news.
First,
as a big surprise, the Egyptians found a Carthagean army on both sides of their
fortress now, cutting them back from their bases. Second, before the
surrounding was completed, there arrived a group of diplomats. They brought
news that a pirate fleet captured Alexandria. That caused so much panic that in
the morning there weren't Alexandrian chariots and a "Bullfrogs" legion
anymore…
At
noon, the Carthagean trumpets sounded the attack, and the first of their
chariot groups began their advance.
The
"Grain Cutters" fought as best they could, but lost. The chariots, with heavy
losses, but victorious, returned to their camp.
Dale
and his decuria took their places at the wall, between the dead "Grain Cutters"
legionaries.
"Hold
tight!" Matey yelled. "They will pay dearly for their victory! Death to
Carthage!"
"Death!
Death! Death!" the legion called out.
Dale
saw how the chariots got closer and closer. Now the legionaries threw their
spears, and the few first chariots turned over, with their cats dead or their
drivers wounded. The second row rode over them. Arrows fell around Dale,
picking out his decuria one by one…
There,
Tem fell, trying to throw a spear at the closest chariot…
Samual
was lying on his side, hit with a sling stone…
Dale
saw the first chariots stopping at the foot of the wall, with their crews
jumping over their sides and then on the wall without the ladders.
One
of the attackers jumped toward him. Dale meet him with his shield and cut with
his sword. The enemy fell back, dead.
But
there were already two more in his place.
Dale
met the first one with his shield again, and Flavie helped him on the side with
the second one. The enemy was lightly armed, and soon they were thrown back
down the wall. But there were more and more enemies over the walls.
Some
places of the wall were now bare, with the Carthageans climbing over them
freely. Dale and the rest of his group turned to meet a new danger from the
side.
It
was then that Dale saw the rock flying toward his head.
It
is strange how time stretches in moments of danger. Dale saw the small round
rock flying toward his head, knowing it would hit him and he would not be able
to dodge it…
He
got hit, heard Teoden scream his name, stepped back, and fell over the wall
side…fall…fall…fall…
Dale
fell…fell…
"Dale!
Say something! Dale!" someone cried.
Dale
opened his eyes.
The
first thing he saw was Chip's face looking at him with great worry.
"Thank
God, you're alive!" he whispered.
Dale,
shocked, looked around. He was lying on the floor in their room, with Chip and Monty
at his side. He heard quick footsteps, and Gadget ran into the room with a
glass of water.
"What…"
"Holy
cows, Dale, you terrified us all when you started that flight from your bed
with the hard headfirst landing," Monty, relieved, freed the air out of his
lungs.
"Drink,
Dale," Gadget kneeled at his head and pulled it on her lap. In another time,
Dale would have been in the seventh heaven with this luck, but this time a wave
of pain denied him that, when the inventor's small finger checked his head for
bumps. There was one bump there. And a big one.
Later
that morning Dale was lying back in his bed, with Gadget sitting near him,
changing the wet cloths on his head.
"I
still don't understand. What happened?" he whispered.
Gadget
looked at him closely.
"I
think YOU should tell us that. You suddenly put out a yell that rang over half
the park, jumped up and fell out headfirst from your bed. Then you appeared to
lie dead while we all didn't know what to do. And you're asking US what
happened?"
"I
don't remember…I think it was a dream…a strange dream…like I was a piece in our
game…a legionary…"
Gadget
looked into Dale's eyes, and then checked his forehead.
Dale
soon got out of bed. They had a calm day, checking Spinelli's notebook but not
finding any cases to investigate. And no one came to their headquarters to ask
for their help, either. A dull day.
That
evening, after supper, Dale pulled out the game pack.
The
rest of the Rangers exchanged looks.
"I
don't think it's a good idea, Dale," Gadget said with a worried voice.
"You
will lose again, and again you will scream," Chip added, earning hard looks
from the mice and fly.
"I
want a rematch. And I won't cry anymore." Dale promised.
"You
sure you want it?" Monty asked, but the rest of them had already agreed.
"Okay,
I will prepare the game," Gadget quickly said. "Chip, help me. Dale, Monty,
bring up crackers and juice from the kitchen."
As
soon as the mouse and chipmunk were out of the room, Gadget dropped the box and
pulled Chip close to her.
"Let
Dale win." she said.
"Why?"
Chip wondered.
"I
said let Dale win. Make a mistake."
"Gadget!"
Chip screamed.
"Is
it so hard to loose one time to let your friend feel good?" Gadget asked
ironically.
"No,
but…"
"No
buts. He needs to win. And I hope he wins this time," Gadget said, listening to
the two others returning with food and beverage.
"Gadget,
it won't solve anything!" Chip disagreed. "He will win today, but he will loose
another day. I can't always surrender to him!"
"Okay,
okay…it was only an idea…forget it."
The
game began, as always, first with all the races expanding peacefully. The
Greeks first settled north of the Mediterranean, leaving to the Romans only
Italy and Spain. The Kilikilians, as always, headed for the islands in the sea.
Both Carthage and Egypt established as many cities as they could in their
lands. Then began the first conflicts. Rome tried to beat the Greeks out of
France. It succeeded, but then the Greeks had gained the Kilikilians as allies
and began to push the Romans back. Egypt developed its infrastructure by
building roads, and Carthage prepared hill forts against their attacks.
Two
hours later, the game was in a crisis. Both Carthage and Egypt had built huge
armies. So huge, that the only outcome could be a total war. Rome, by that
time, had been defeated totally, reduced to its capital city, with Greek
phalanxes surrounding it. Greece was quickly building up her own army and
fleet, while the Kilikilians exploited the last free pieces of land.
Then
Dale suddenly switched to great shipbuilding. Chip cursed, moving half of his
army back from the mountains to the shores. He needed to move even more when
Dale launched a huge fleet toward him.
Gadget
saw with fear a battle raging between the two chipmunks. Her army still wasn't
ready to help Dale.
While
the fleets maneuvered into the Mediterranean, and no one was trying to start
the grand battle, Dale began to move some phalanxes into the mountain area.
Being only a few, Chip failed to notice their importance when Dale began to
build roads, connecting to Chip's ones.
Dale
launched another fleet. Chip was forced to pull back even more defenders. Just
then, Dale started his grand battle. Ships were sunk, but only after chariots
and phalanxes landed on Carthage's shores. Chip fought back.
And
then Dale pulled forward another army—catapults, cavalry, and phalanxes—over
the roads he had built in the desert. Pressed between a sea assault and
advancing ground forces, Chip fought valiantly, but without luck. A half hour
later, Chip was reduced to three mountain cities, armed to the teeth, while
Dale commanded twenty big plain cities and an army four times as big. When
Greece and Kilikilia agreed to ally with Egypt, both Rome and Carthage
surrendered.
"Wow,
Dale!" Gadget exclaimed. "You won!"
"Yeah,
mate, how did you manage that?" Monty wrote his name in fifth place, and didn't
even bother to count his pieces.
"I
used Chip's trick back on him," Dale smiled. "Divide attention. The trick with
the fleet was only a diversion. The chariots were too little to capture cities,
and the main force were the phalanxes which were fortified on good locations,
messing up Chip's communications and resources. As soon as he had pulled his
main force back to deal with my diversion, I pushed forward the catapults and
cavalry over the hills. He couldn't stop my attack and save his fields from
pillaging at the same time."
"But
how did you think of all of that?!" Chip asked, still shocked from the defeat.
"A
dream helped me."
"A
dream?" all the rest of the Rangers exclaimed.
"Yes.
I saw all that in my dream. Centurion Julius Rokfor talked about tactic, using
this one trick as an example…"
Gadget
exchanged a worried look with Monty and Chip.
Gadget
closed the game box and smiled toward her friends.
"I
won't let it end here!" Chip stated. "I want a rematch."
"Tomorrow,
Chipper," Dale grinned as only he could, driving Chip mad. "But for today, I'm
the winner. Let's celebrate it!"
"Sure,
boys! I know a very good place that has wonderful cheese at this hour!" Monty
agreed.
Zipper
happily buzzed, zoomed over them, and flew outside.
"Hey,
wait a sec!" Gadget ran after them, closing the doors.
"And
I hope we all sleep well tonight!" Dale's was the last voice that was heard.
FIN.