BOOK II OF III: The Reign of the Sultan

by J. Eric Booker

  The secret to this armor was that when the latches were tightened around the bodily joints, the plates would simultaneously secure themselves tightly around Baltor’s powerful muscular contours.

  Making this armor all that much more valuable were the gold-swirl designs molded into each plate, especially the chest plate had an solid-gold plate imbedded on top, bearing the shape of a shield—etched into the gold was the new symbol of the Sharia Empire—Baltor’s swords crossed underneath his platinum crown.

  Based off all his week-long tests with the suit, he thankfully had ninety-five percent flexibility, yet only actual combat would prove this armor’s comfort and protection that Jamar claimed to be almost as good as a full set of plate mail. Three more suits were under construction for Humonus, Brishava, and Chelsea.

  As this time-consuming process took place in getting the armor secured to his body, which time took about ten minutes on the average, Baltor considered the distinct possibility that tens of thousands of lives would be minimally lost before this war was over no matter who won!

  Perhaps this great amount of deaths might even happen tonight? he grimly thought.

  Once the armor was completely strapped on, only seven minutes this time, two assistants began to attach both sheaths upon his back, which sheaths held Baltor’s swords.

  Two of the assistants had just retrieved the armor-plated boots from the closet, so they could place them onto their Sultan’s feet once the sword sheaths were securely latched, which they then did.

  By the time that the boots were on, one assistant was already holding the crowned-helmet that had been specially molded and padded to fit perfectly, and comfortably, upon the Sultan’s head. This assistant placed it on before securing the chinstrap.

  It was then that Baltor’s eyes saw—through the mirror—that Brishava had just entered the room and was walking his direction. Now she donned her own set of chainmail battle armor, as well a spiked flail that was attached to her belt—her weapon of choice.

  Because the assistants were done, they bowed, closed the doors to the closet, and rolled it toward the walk-in closet.

  As Brishava began to near, she said with soothing tones, “My husband and my Sultan, even though you look both awesome and powerful in that new armor of yours, I can clearly see the strains of nervousness and worry upon your face, especially in your eyes. Yes, I do understand that it is not just your life, but the fate of the Sharia Empire that rests within your hands…”

  Halfway through her spiel, she had arrived next to his position, lightly wrapping one of her arms around Baltor’s waist. Only then did she whisper in his ear, “But now, the opportunity has finally come to prove to the world that you are really the Sultan you were destined to be—all you have to do is see things this way, and you will succeed!”

  Baltor silently nodded his head, perhaps six-or-seven times.

  Only then did Brishava throw a sweet smile, kiss him on the cheek, step to Baltor’s side, and ask, “Are you ready?”

  Baltor pivoted his whole body around until he faced his wife. After kissing her on the lips, he confidently answered, “Yes I am, my Sultaness… Let’s go.”

  With a company-sized element of cavalry soldiers as their escort, the two left the confines of the palace and the city on their horses. Of course Baltor rode his prize warhorse, Grasha.

  Nearly an hour later, only seconds after they exited the city walls, they saw that their army spanned from horizon to horizon, fully equipped with armor and weapons—sitting on their horses in front of all the ranks were Humonus and Chelsea.

  Humonus, who was now wearing his own brand new set of chain mail armor and helmet, as well carrying the megaphone, saw them approach, put the megaphone to his mouth, and called out, “Attention!”

  The two trumpeters blew out their two-toned tune: The army instantly snapped to the position of attention.

  Perhaps ten seconds later, Baltor and Brishava stopped their horses next to Humonus and Chelsea’s position. Humonus handed the megaphone to Baltor.

  Once Baltor had put it up to his mouth, he declared, “Forces of the Sharia Empire, the time has come for war. Most likely, many of us will not be coming back, so remember this if you’re the one who faces death: Life is what you make of it, so make it the absolute most you can until your very last breath! After you’re dead, then you’ll have plenty of time to relax.”

  After handing the megaphone back to Humonus, Baltor unsheathed both of his swords in one quick movement. While raising them up into the air and crossing them over his head, he yelled out at the top of his lungs, “For the Sharia Empire!”

  The army first smacked the end of their weapon hard into their armored chest, which caused a single, loud, clanging noise to erupt that was heard miles away as it was all done in unison. They then roared back, “For the Sharia Empire!!”

  “Ruling General Humonus,” Baltor commanded, “execute the battle plan!”

  Humonus replied, “Yes, my Sultan!”

  He immediately looked at his commanding generals, nodded his head once, and ordered, “Generals, make it so.”

  Guided by their commanding general, twenty thousand and two of the forces marched back into the city to their stationed posts—half of them were the archers that would take positions on top of six-hundred-foot tall walls. This general’s secondary mission, besides protecting the city and harbor, was to alert Admiral Bryce that half of the naval fleet was to position their ships defensively around Pavelus. The other half of the fleet was to assemble a half- mile away, wait for the enemy navy to attack Pavelus, then to outflank and attack.

  At the same time as everything else was going on, the two cavalry divisions, each consisting of five thousand troops either riding horseback or upon chariots, each led by a major general going their separate directions. The first cavalry division rode to the coliseum with the orders to hide inside—that is, until the order came to outflank and attack. The second cavalry division rode to the northeast behind the sand dunes with the very same orders. Outflank and attack.

  Finally yet just as importantly, the members of Baltor’s Shadow Forces made their way back for the underground tunnels, which tunnels spread out as far as three times the city limits. Their mission was to utilize the very few caves that existed on the far side of Vaspan’s forces and launch a surprise attack from that side when the order was given by Baltor to do so.

  Led by Baltor, Humonus, Brishava, Chelsea and the flag bearer, thirty thousand troops marched behind, and ten more thousand troops rode on horses or chariots in the very rear of the formation, as they all made their way directly for Vaspan’s encampment.

  Nearly an hour later, nearing ten p.m., they observed tens of thousands of glowing lights from campfires or torches far off in the distance. Upon drawing nearer, they could make out at least two times the number of tents spread throughout, and enemy soldiers scattered everywhere.

  By this time, the enemy scouts had just relayed the information to Vaspan that the enemy was approaching: Immediately he ordered Thorn to form the troops up in battle formation.

  Perhaps a half of a mile away from the enemy encampment, Baltor raised his left-armored fist up into the air, signaling for Humonus to command the troops to stop. Humonus commanded, “Halt.” They did.

  The five of them, including the flag bearer, rode halfway between their own army and Vaspan’s assembling army, which army was about a sixteenth of the way assembled.

  Perhaps four minutes later, and Vaspan’s army had assembled halfway, he and eight other people on horses trotted up, all riding side-by-side. One of the riders held high the black flag of Mauritia that had a red eagle clutching onto the limp body of a golden king cobra.

  Upon those riders drawing near, Brishava was the only one to recognize her uncle in the mix. All nine riders stopped about twenty feet away, one of those riders now being recognized as Glacius, the former-ruling general who had somehow escaped from the dungeons of Pavelus.

  Despite the fact that B
altor didn’t know which of the riders Vaspan was, he still called out, “Emperor-Sedious Vaspan the Magnificent, I am Sultan Baltor Elysian the Fifteenth, and as you well know, this is my wife, your niece, Brishava. We do not wish to start war—”

  With a sneer upon his haughty face, Vaspan rudely interrupted, “First of all, I am now the Sultan….not you. Second, I know who my niece is, though I know next to nothing about you, boy. Therefore, I will address only her, peasant!”

  Even though that statement/insult greatly angered Baltor, he kept his anger and his snappy response contained.

  Brishava, on the other hand, didn’t hold back as she stated in angry tones, “Uncle Vaspan, Baltor is no longer a peasant, but my husband who is the official Sultan of the Sharia Empire! As you know, my father declared that the next-in-line to rule is me…”

  After a pause that felt an eternity, Vaspan sighed, and then said gently, “Brishava, the time will come for you to rule, but not now—it is my turn, as I am the next in line to the throne...not you. Sorry! Therefore, if you unconditionally surrender your forces, your lands, your cities and your wealth to me, I shall not only spare your life, but I will even graciously let you be the next to rule upon my demise—instead of my firstborn son, Prince Jumblee, if you don’t!”

  Brishava seriously began to consider Vaspan’s solution … that is, until he nastily added, “As for the peasant pretending to be a Sultan, he can die with the dogs! After all, there are much better noblemen out there who can become your new husband, like maybe even my firstborn—you guys are only cousins. Perhaps the two of you can one day get married and share the Empires together?”

  After delivering an exasperated sigh, Brishava responded, “Not a chance—therefore, I suppose that the time has come for our two nations to commence to war, uncle…”

  “Yes, I suppose the time has come,” Vaspan said with a forced smile. He began to turn his horse around, so the he could ride back to his encampment, but as he heard his name being called out, he relaxed his grip on the reins.

  Baltor suggested, “Emperor Vaspan, I have an alternative solution to war, and the subsequent massive amounts of death which will result, no matter the winner.”

  Both Humonus and Brishava sharply turned their heads to look directly at Baltor with a look of surprise, for neither had previously heard of an “alternative solution!”

  Vaspan slowly turned his horse around again, and asked, “You’re speaking to me again, boy?”

  “I did. Instead of an all-out war between our forces, I have a better idea. Why not let it be you and me that face each other in singular combat to the death…and the winner of our little duel becomes the indisputable Sultan?”

  Vaspan laughed lightly at Baltor’s unusual idea/suggestion, though his mind was already hard at work. Glacius, who had earlier escaped with the help of several of his loyal soldiers, had delivered to him a very small report about this Baltor.

  1) Baltor had originally been an orphaned peasant, and later a thief within the Thieves Guild of Pavelus—Vaspan hated thieves, though of course he used them for his own ends, including his martial arts skills.

  2) Most of the population of Pavelus had, only five weeks earlier, volunteered to fight for this pathetic wretch—Glacius reported that they only volunteered because they had always loved and respected Brishava.

  3) Though Baltor was reported to be an expert in combative martial arts, he had very little if any practical experience.

  Twenty seconds of silence passed before Baltor finally asked, “Well, your Highness? Do we have a deal?”

  Vaspan breathed out a short laugh, and after having sucked in another deep breath through his nose, he asked, “Is this agreeable to you, Brishava? If I was to kill your husband now and win, will I have to watch out for your dagger getting plunged into my heart one day when I get old?”

  Throughout Brishava’s life, there had only been a handful of times that she had become stunned to the point she was speechless: this time occurred because her uncle had not only managed to find out about the “secret assassination” of her father, yet that he even knew that she had been the one to commit the murder!

  Perhaps twenty seconds of silence passed as she began to desperately consider any other options besides this one-on-one duel to the death.

  When none surfaced, she finally sighed with resignation, “No, uncle….you won’t.”

  Vaspan threw another short cocky laugh, just before he looked over to Baltor and replied, “Before I agree to this duel between you and I, I have four conditions—first, I want to make sure that our armies not only know about our duel, but they get to watch!”

  Baltor nodded.

  Without delay, Vaspan continued, “Second, any who interferes, too include royalty, is to be terminated immediately by the hands of the army they belong to...that way, there is no question of who should rule both Empires!”

  Baltor again nodded.

  While swirling his index finger around and around and pointing to the ground below him, Vaspan said, “Third, I want a large circular perimeter of torches for us to fight in right here. In between each of the torch posts, I want a wide assortment of weapons for us to choose from.”

  Baltor’s left eyebrow scrunched ever so slightly, while his right eyebrow rose very sharply. He asked, “Regarding your third condition, why don’t we just duel in the coliseum that lies just to the south of Pavelus?”

  Before Vaspan could answer, Baltor added, “Your army and my army can all fit comfortably in there with plenty of room to spare…”

  Vaspan snapped out, “This better not be a trap!”

  “No, I swear on my honor that this is no trap,” Baltor replied. “Had you decided to start war now, however, you would have found yourself in that trap…”

  After throwing suspicious glances at Baltor for about twenty seconds longer, Vaspan said, “Fine…”

  “I agree to your third condition—so, what is your fourth?” Baltor asked right away.

  “Last but not least,” Vaspan answered, “if you or I should happen to step outside the boundaries of that circle even once during the course of our duel where they can only be one victor, that person is to be instantly killed by the armies of both sides! That is, until the victor has verbally pronounced his victory while the loser is unquestionably dead.”

  Without pause, Baltor nodded and said, “Agreed.”

  “Deal,” Vaspan said. Without pause, he turned his horse around, as did his other eight followers.

  Before Vaspan had spurred his horse on, he added over his shoulder, “In one hour, we meet at the coliseum, boy… if this is a trap or you don’t show in one hour, the deal is off! If the deal becomes dead, then so shall every last one of you—I swear to it on my honor…”

  Baltor didn’t respond, but continued to watch Vaspan as he spurred his horse into a prance. Right away the remainder of his companions followed behind, as they all made their way back toward his bloodthirsty army!

  “Bal—!” Humonus began to say quite loudly, but Baltor interrupted with, “Shh…”

  Baltor’s superhuman ears were the only ones to hear Vaspan as he began his speech, nearly two minutes later, “Forces of the Vaspan Empire, there is to be a change. Instead of all-out war, the enemy’s leader and I will have a fierce duel to the death! The winner shall become the next Sultan over both empires, which shall undoubtedly be me!”

  With that, the army roared out their approval, while slamming their armor-plated hands into their ring-mail chests, or banging their weapons into their shields!

  This beating caused such a loud and continuous ringing noise to occur that even the citizens of Pavelus could clearly hear both types of sounds, though they fearfully wondered what in the hell was causing them!

  About a minute later, the army stopped making their ruckus. Meanwhile, Baltor continued to listen silently.

  Vaspan continued in his speech, “Now, there will be several rules, which must not be violated—the penalties of violating these rule
s even once will instantly mean death!”

  As soon as he had finished stating all the rules correctly and completely, about three minutes later, Baltor turned his head to Humonus, who he saw bore a very apprehensive look on his face, and asked, “Yes?”

  Humonus said, “My Sultan…in this case, you are making a foolish mistake! Even though we are still outnumbered, this does not mean that we can’t win—the battle plan we conjured can work!”

  Baltor asked, “Am I really making such a foolish mistake? Even though I too believe that our battle plan can work, Ruling-General Humonus, I still don’t like the idea of such massive bloodshed and death which will ultimately result, no matter the winner!”

  “Baltor,” Brishava asked with sadness to her voice, “what will I do with my life if you die?”

  Before he could answer, she promised, “You don’t know my uncle like I do—he is the best swordsman in the lands—even better than you only because he’s got a hell of a lot more experience!”

  Baltor grew quite a bit upset at the lack of confidence from his wife and best friend, but instead of letting his anger pour out through his words, he first sucked in a deep breath, slowly released it, and took another deep breath. Finally, he muttered, “Trust me. I know what I’m doing.”

  Without delay, he turned his horse around and began riding back toward his army … a few moments later, Brishava and the rest of the party turned their horses around, and caught up.

  Just as they had begun to near their own army, Brishava asked with panic to her voice, “Baltor, it’s not too late to change your mind. Please, I don’t want you to die!”

  Baltor answered, “At least I’ll know, even in my own death, that I will have saved tens of thousands, perhaps even hundreds of thousands of lives! No matter what anyone else thinks, I do not believe I’ll lose…

  “In fact, I now believe, as you put it to me so eloquently earlier tonight…the opportunity has finally come to prove to the Sharia Empire that I am indeed the Sultan I was destined to be all along!”