Mountains Moved

by Madeleine Pelletier

Mago struggled up the mountain. He’d been travelling for days, passing thousands of soldiers. He asked each soldier for news of the General.

“He was behind us,” they all answered. “When the wall of snow came, he was behind us.” No one could say more.

Mago felt for the small leather bag that was tied to his chest and spurred his horse onwards.

A week earlier, the army’s march had slowed to a crawl, the treacherous mountain pass proving itself more dangerous than their enemies. Summoned by the General, Mago found him pacing angrily next to Surus, his colossal, one-tusked elephant.

“Time is against us, Captain Mago,” said the General. “If we do not complete our passage soon, we will be descending right into the arms of the enemy.”

“Let me send the scouts. They can tell us if the enemy is near.”

“Not enough! I need someone who understands strategy, who can find the route to victory. For many years, you have fought by my side. You have seen what it takes to win battles. You will go.”

“I am honored.”

“Find me a way, Mago, and I will grant you what you desire above all else.”

What Mago desired most was to marry Dido, but her father had promised her to an elder statesman. The General, Dido’s uncle, knew this.

Mago left camp the same day, making his way down the steep icy road. Several times his horse slipped and nearly fell off the edge of the precipice. They would need to widen the road for the war elephants to pass. Another delay could be catastrophic. Mago thought of Dido and prayed to the gods that he would succeed.

When Mago reached the warmer weather of the valley, he rode a day in each direction, gathering information and assessing avenues of attack. There was no sign of the Roman legions.

As he turned back towards the Alps, Mago spotted another rider in the distance, one who dressed as a peasant but rode like a soldier. Mago followed until the soldier made camp. Then he attacked. Among the dead soldier’s belongings, he found a map and several messages. The Romans knew they were coming, their army only a few days away. Mago had to tell the General.

He rode day and night, through snow and ice, until he saw familiar uniforms coming towards him.

“What news?” he asked.

“All is lost,” said a soldier. “The road collapsed beneath us and thousands of men, horses, and elephants fell to their deaths. While rebuilding the road, hundreds more died of cold.”

“And the General?”

“As soon as we started again, a storm hit. The animals became mired in the mud and ice and we were forced to halt. The General stormed to the front, banging the ground with his staff,” said another soldier.

“Then, a great roar came from the sky,” continued the first man. “The mountain came down upon us, a wall of snow that washed half the army down the hill and pushed the other half off the edge. We tried to go back, but there was no way through.”

“So, you are abandoning your General?” shouted Mago.

“We are soldiers. We fight men. We cannot fight mountains.”

Mago turned from the cowards in disgust and continued up the mountain. It was not long before the road was lined with soldiers, dead or dying, pushed down the mountain by the crest of snow. He grieved for the dying men, but he could not stop to help; getting to the General was far more important. He clutched his leather bag again.

When he finally reached the beleaguered army, he found the General standing upon Surus, shouting out orders.

“General,” said Mago, “thank the gods that you were not hurt.”

“The gods favor me. What news from below?”

“The Roman legions advance across the plains. They know we’re crossing, but not where we will emerge. They are spread thin.” Mago handed him the map and messages he’d taken from the enemy. “We can easily break through their lines, but we risk an attack on our flanks.”

“Then we will do as we did with the tribesmen of Gaul. Let them think we are walking into their trap unaware. The road beyond, how quickly can we move?”

“With the animals clearing the way, it will take perhaps two days more to reach the valley.”

“Once there, we will make a large camp, as if our number were double, and we will burn fires for all to see. You will take half the men and keep them at a distance. The Romans will come at us en masse. When we feign retreat, the Roman legions will follow. You will attack from the side.”

“As we did in Iberia.”

“Soon all of Rome will tremble before Hannibal Barca and the glorious army of Carthage. And you, Mago, you will hold the capital of Italy, the citadel of Rome, in the hollow of your hand. It will be a lovely wedding gift for your new wife, don’t you think?”

Four days later, a victorious Mago walked among cheering soldiers, the small leather bag clasped tightly in his hand. Inside was the only gift he’d ever wanted to give Dido, the shimmering gold band that had belonged to his mother. The General could keep the jewels of Rome. Dido was the only treasure Mago needed.

About the author

Madeleine Pelletier lives in an old farmhouse near Montreal, with three cats, six goats and one grumpy old man. Her short fiction has appeared or is forthcoming in The Arcanist, Janus Literary, and WoW! Women on Writing. Follow her on Twitter @mad_pelletier.

About the illustration

The illustration is of unknown provenance.