The Rise of Aredor

by Claire M Banschbach

  The man gave way before his furious charge, and Hamíd rode on as his pursuers became entangled with the remaining spearmen. Reaching the walls of Latharn, he rode along them until he came to the place where Nicar waited. Cries rang out behind him as the Argusians continued with their pursuit.

  Hamíd gave a frantic whistle, and the rope was thrown over the battlements. Sheathing his scimitar, he grabbed hold of the rope, slid from the back of the horse, and began climbing. As he reached the top, Nicar leaned over and helped him on to the walls.

  Hamíd collapsed against the battlements. The excitement of the chase was wearing off, leaving him exhausted. Nicar handed him a flask. He took it and drank. The fiery liquid burned as he swallowed it and he coughed against the unexpected sensation.

  “What is that?”

  “You don’t think I drink water all the time, do you?” Nicar grinned. “You looked like you could use some.”

  Hamíd took another drink and handed it back to Nicar.

  “Everyone else got back all right?”

  “Aye, from what I heard, we only lost a few men. We’ll find out once we check in with Azrahil.”

  Descending from the walls, the two Guards made their way back to the citadel. Azrahil met them in the hall. The captain was covered in blood and grime and had a rough bandage on his leg.

  “You all right, Captain?” Nicar asked.

  “Yes. Hamíd, glad to see you’re in one piece. Good work.” Azrahil tipped a nod.

  “Thank you, sir,” Hamíd replied. “How did the sortie do?”

  “Very well. We broke through their lines in several places. Easy in and out, they didn’t know what was happening. Can’t say I like that kind of business. I prefer to get a straight fight from my enemy,” Azrahil said. “You both are dismissed for a few hours.”

  Nicar and Hamíd left the hall and went to the Guard’s chambers. Ahmed was already there, cleaning up. He greeted them with a slight nod. By now, Hamíd was used to the quiet, young guard. Ahmed had lived on Lord Rishdah’s lands all his life since his father tended to the lord’s herds. Ahmed was tall and well-built from a life of hard labor. Under his reserved exterior lay a staunch, unflinching character. Over the course of the past few months, Hamíd had come to know his companions better and learned that no matter what, they would stand beside each other until death.

  “Where’s Emeth?” Nicar asked.

  “Stables,” Ahmed replied. “Narak got hurt. Emeth’s taking care of him.”

  “Any chance that animal will die?” Nicar asked, somewhat hopefully.

  “I heard that, and I’m severely hurt that you would say such a thing about Narak.” Emeth entered the room.

  His companions chuckled. Narak was a temperamental young stallion and not very friendly with people, particularly grooms. He and Emeth had taken an instant liking to each other.

  “How bad is it?” Ahmed asked.

  “I’ll have to take another horse out. He’ll be lame for a few days,” Emeth said.

  “You think Lord Rishdah will send out another sortie?” Hamíd asked.

  Nicar shrugged. “Depends on how much damage we did and how much longer we’ll last.”

  With that sobering thought, the guards turned in to get what sleep they could.

  The next day was darkened by smoke still rising from the Argusian’s camp, which cast a haze over the city. Large swathes had been cut through the once orderly tent lines, wagons and chariots lay overturned, and horses wandered through the encampment. The defenders did not have much time to view the handiwork of the previous night’s sortie as drums began pounding outside the walls and the Argusians made ready to attack. Lord Rishdah hurried to the walls to order the defenses.

  * * *

  Hamíd slumped against the wall beside Nicar. Fighting had been raging incessantly for two days with the enemy repeatedly scaling the walls and being repelled by the Calorin defenders.

  “How you holding up?” Nicar asked him.

  “I’m fine.” Hamíd smeared grime from his face. “You?”

  “I’m not having my best day.”

  Hamíd chuckled as he began to sharpen his scimitar. Nicar looked up at the sky, judging the position of the sun.

  “You think they’ll attack again tonight?” Hamíd asked him.

  “Hopefully not.” Nicar stifled a yawn. “But right now, I’m going to get some sleep. Wake me only when they’re coming over the walls.” He leaned back against the wall and shut his eyes.

  Hamíd continued sharpening his blade, trying to occupy his mind. Going to battle had been harder than he had thought it would be. But it wasn’t the fighting. It was what happened afterwards. He hadn’t been able to forget the men he had killed in battle. The cold steel felt heavy in his hands as he polished it.

  “You all right?” A voice startled Hamíd out of his reverie. He looked up to see Emeth crouched beside him.

  “I’m just tired.” Hamíd tucked his whetstone away. Emeth seemed to accept this answer.

  “Captain wants us,” he said. “Lord Rishdah is planning something.”

  Hamíd shook Nicar awake. Crouching low, they made their way to the wall steps. As they descended, Emeth spoke to Hamíd.

  “You’ll learn to live with it,” he said.

  “Have you?” Hamíd asked.

  “Somewhat. It gets a little easier with time. Believe me, I was sick for a week after my first battle.” Emeth’s usual smile was faint.

  Lord Rishdah and the other guards were gathered in the council hall of the citadel.

  “I’m sending out another sortie,” Lord Rishdah announced. “Captain Azrahil, you will lead it. Pick two guards and two hundred men to accompany you.”

  “Yes, my Lord. When do we leave?” Azrahil asked.

  “After sunset,” Lord Rishdah replied.

  Three hours passed quickly, and Hamíd moved Inzi into position beside Ahmed at the west gate of Latharn. On Azrahil’s signal, the gates swung open and the sortie rode out. The camp sprawled in front of them, an unusual silence lingering over the tents. The gates clanged shut behind them, heightening the guards’ sudden feelings of foreboding. Nevertheless, Azrahil ordered the men forward.

  “Sweep through as fast as you can. If there’s nothing here, we continue around the east side,” he ordered.

  Horses were urged into a canter, and they entered the camp. Men reigned up sharply as a heavy barricade suddenly came into view. Torches flared, and Argusians let loose a flurry of arrows into their midst. Surrounded on three sides by the barrier and with more Argusians advancing, the Calorins sought to escape.

  Azrahil marshaled those still mounted, and they charged the line of Argusians advancing from the rear. Once they broke through the enemy’s ranks, the Calorins wheeled their horses and tore back through the lines. Meanwhile, those on foot were now fighting the Argusians clambering over the barricades.

  “Captain! We need to get out of here! They’re gaining reinforcements!” Ahmed yelled over the battle.

  At Azrahil’s signal, one of the men sounded his horn, and the Calorins began to retreat. Hamíd and four other men formed a rearguard. A rider-less horse careened after them. Recognizing it as Ahmed’s, Hamíd searched frantically for the guard. Ahmed was nowhere in sight.

  Hamíd spurred Inzi forward and raced back toward the barricades. Ahmed was fighting desperately, backed up against the walls. Hamíd plunged through the Argusians until he reached Ahmed. Startled soldiers backed away, allowing Ahmed to swing up behind him. Hamíd looked for any escape through the surrounding enemy.

  “Hang on!” he warned and drove Inzi toward the opposite wall of the barricade. Men dodged away as they tore across the ring. Inzi gathered herself and jumped the wall before Hamíd wheeled her around and galloped back to Latharn.

  The gates had begun to swing closed as they rode through and into the courtyard. Ahmed slid off from behind Hamíd and slumped against a nearby wall. Hamíd leaned forward over Inzi’s neck as they tried to catch their
breath. He dismounted onto unsteady legs, and Inzi was led away by a groom.

  “Thanks.” Ahmed straightened against the wall that still looked to be taking most of his weight.

  “Well, I figured you didn’t want to stay back there,” Hamíd said.

  “Not exactly,” Ahmed replied with a laugh.

  “All right boys, come with me, we’ve got a problem,” Azrahil said. They hurried after him as he strode up to the citadel.

  “My Lord, may I speak with you in private?” Azrahil finished the report. Lord Rishdah dismissed his other generals and attendants. Only the Phoenix Guard remained.

  “Sir, they knew we were coming. I’m afraid we have a traitor among us,” Azrahil said.

  “Are you sure of this?” Lord Rishdah pushed up from his chair with a frown.

  “Yes, sir. They were waiting for us. There’s no other explanation,” Azrahil answered.

  “There are nearly four thousand men here; it could be anyone. It was no secret where and when the sortie would leave.” Nicar spoke up.

  “That does present a problem,” Emeth murmured to Hamíd.

  “Keep this to yourselves,” Lord Rishdah commanded. “We have enough trouble without everyone mistrusting each other.”

  As the Guards voiced their assent, their attention was arrested by the blaring of horns from the walls. They were moving before the last echoes faded, following Lord Rishdah from the hall with drawn swords.

  The enemy had begun an assault on the southern wall. Ladders were placed against the wall as catapults hurled fiery missiles into Latharn. Hamíd was halfway up the wall steps when Emeth turned to shout at him and Ahmed, “Get to the north wall!”

  He glanced over to where Emeth pointed. The north wall was deserted and Lord Rishdah was already engaged in the fighting above. Other men heard Emeth and followed as they raced along the walls around to the north gate.

  They arrived barely in time as Argusians began to climb over the battlements with the aid of ropes and grappling hooks. The small force attacked the Argusians already over the walls and cut ropes whenever they could. An enemy soldier stood on the battlement, waving his arms and gesturing at the gate. Hamíd knocked him from the wall and saw a new force charging the gates.

  He leapt down the wall steps to the gates. They stood wide open; he was now the only thing that stood between the city and the oncoming Argusians. Sheathing his scimitar, he threw himself against one of the doors and began to push it closed. The massive gate moved a fraction as a chariot thundered toward him. Frantically, he threw all his weight behind the door, and it began to close.

  A spear from the wall top hurtled into the horse, sending the chariot smashing into ruin and blocking most of the gate. Behind it, the Argusians still charged. A desperate shout tore from his throat as the gate slid past the halfway point, picking up some last momentum and slamming into place. There was no time to close the other door. He pulled his sword free and prepared to defend the opening.

  On the walls, Ahmed saw the chariot charging the gate. Hefting his spear, he threw with deadly accuracy. He didn’t pause to watch the chariot tumble into wreckage, turning only to find his path down to the gate blocked by an Argusian wielding a massive battle axe.

  Ahmed slashed and lunged at his opponent, striving to overcome him, but the Argusian repelled his every attack. He gritted his teeth in frustration. He needed to get down to the gate. He stumbled backward, and the Argusian pressed in for the kill only to be halted as Ahmed’s knife plunged into his stomach.

  Around him, more soldiers were killed. A ladder bumped against the wall. Emeth pushed it down, but three more sprang up in its place. Sickening recognition settled over Ahmed as he realized they would soon be overrun and the city would be lost.

  The enemy thronged the walls, and their small force was about to be overwhelmed when a new battle cry sounded, and Castimir led a fresh force into the fray.

  “Ahmed, get down to the gate!” Emeth kicked Ahmed’s opponent away, clearing the way for him to race down steps.

  A pile of bodies choked the gateway. Hamíd still fought on, blood dribbling from multiple wounds. He held the gate only because the enemy could come a few at a time around the fallen chariot. Then they were shoved aside, and one man stepped forward to face Hamíd. A champion of the Argusians, the man stood a head taller than he and wielded a fearsome sabre. Hamíd recognized the challenge and, mustering his strength, stepped out to meet him.

  They circled each other, swords flickering as they struck and parried. The ground was slick with blood, causing them to slip more than once. They fought on and on, neither gaining the upper hand until Hamíd stumbled over a corpse. The Argusian caught him and threw him against the gates. Stunned, he fell defenseless to the ground.

  The Argusian kicked him over and placed a foot on his chest. Raising his sword, the Argusian prepared to plunge it through Hamíd, but staggered and crumpled to the ground. Ahmed helped Hamíd up, and they retreated as a new wave of Argusians charged the gate. They fought side by side, barely holding back the fresh onslaught. A line of Argusians leveled bows at them, only to crumble under a hail of arrows from the walls. The enemy halted uncertainly at this turn of events.

  “Get out of there!” a voice yelled behind Hamíd.

  He and Ahmed retreated through the gate and into the city. Calorin soldiers quickly closed and barred the doors. Their ragged breathing was harsh in the sudden quiet; the northern walls had been held. Hamíd leaned wearily against the stone walls.

  “Thanks for the help,” he said to Ahmed.

  “You’re one of us, and I look after my brother.” Ahmed gripped his shoulder.

  Emeth hastened down the steps to join them. “The fighting is still bad on the south walls. We should get over there.”

  “Stay here, Hamíd, you’ve done enough tonight,” Ahmed said.

  Hamíd made no argument, and his two companions hurried off. One of the soldiers helped him bandage his wounds, and he slowly made his way back up the wall stairs to stand with Castimir.

  The fighting continued long into the night as the enemy hurled their might against the walls. Dawn brought a respite for the defenders as the enemy withdrew to regroup and count their losses. The Calorins devoted their remaining energy to extinguishing the fires still burning within the city and caring for the wounded. The Argusians made no further attacks that day, allowing Lord Rishdah to rest and reorganize his troops.

  That night, Hamíd was returning from the walls with Ismail when the harsh clash of steel erupted from Lord Rishdah’s chamber. Breaking into a run, they arrived at the doors at the same time as the rest of the guards. The door was partially opened, and they rushed in.

  Lord Rishdah leaned against the table, clutching his bleeding arm, and Emeth struggled with a man he had pinned against the wall. Nicar and Ismail rushed to help Lord Rishdah while the others turned their attention to the attacker. Emeth now had his knife at the man’s throat and was unleashing a tirade of Rhyddan at the assassin. Thoroughly aroused and angry, the thick brogue of the Clans of Braeton came out in full force as he spoke.

  The man’s face was a picture of terror, and he made no resistance as Azrahil and Ahmed took firm hold of him. Hamíd’s shoulders shook with suppressed laughter as Emeth continued to mutter in Rhyddan as he tried to staunch blood dripping from a cut on his forehead.

  “Emeth!” Azrahil’s sharp voice snapped Emeth to attention.

  “Yes, sir!” He reverted to Calorin.

  “Care to explain this?” Azrahil asked.

  “He was waiting in the room and caught me by surprise as we came in. He knocked me over the head and went after Lord Rishdah, sir,” Emeth said.

  “Not to worry, Captain, it’s only a shallow cut. He didn’t get a chance to finish the job,” Lord Rishdah assured Azrahil.

  “With your permission, my Lord, I will question him. He might tell us who our informant is. Ahmed, stay with Castimir. Nicar, look after Emeth, then accompany Ismail. Hamíd, stay with
Lord Rishdah,” Azrahil gave his orders to the Phoenix Guard.

  “What about me, sir?” Emeth asked.

  “Lie down for a few hours.” Azrahil’s tone stifled any arguments from Emeth. The guard took up their assigned stations, and Lord Rishdah’s chambers were quiet once again.

  “Do I even want to know what Emeth was saying?” Lord Rishdah asked Hamíd.

  “It loses something in translation, sir.” Hamíd repressed fresh laughter.

  Lord Rishdah chuckled. “So, tell me, Hamíd, you are from a different country than Emeth, correct?” he asked.

  Hamíd was taken off guard by the question but replied; “Yes, sir. He comes from Braeton, farther north than Aredor.”

  “Do you miss Aredor?”

  “I can barely remember it now, sir, but part of me still longs to return and see my family again.” He doubted they’d recognize him now.

  “Do you have many siblings?”

  “A brother and a sister, sir.” Hamíd was surprised at how easily he was talking about his family. Lord Rishdah began to ask another question but stopped, turning instead to other matters.

  “I heard how you fought at the north gate last night,” he said. “But I also hear you wish no praise for it.”

  An uncomfortable heat tinged Hamíd’s cheeks. “Anyone would have done the same in my place, sir.”

  “I think you underestimate yourself, Hamíd. You should be honored by all for what you did.”

  “I’ve spent years trying to remain unnoticed, sir, and I’d rather stay that way,” Hamíd said.

  “Very well, but just know that you have earned my respect, Hamíd.”

  Chapter 7

  The next day, when the enemy saw that the attempt on Lord Rishdah’s life had failed and that Latharn’s resistance would continue to cost much needed men, they began to withdraw. Scouts were sent out to monitor the Argusian’s retreat. With the enemy safely gone, Lord Rishdah sent out riders to the rest of his army. News came back that Ncorha had been retaken by the Argusians and Makurung was again under siege. The remnants of Murad’s army joined Lord Rishdah at the border. There, the war turned to small skirmishes up and down the border with neither side gaining a clear advantage. Lord Rishdah again sent Castimir home, and this time, the young man obeyed and returned safely home.