The fort did not have a name, not really. We called it
mauza which meant
place or
village, for it was a village of men and it became our world.
We of the horse arrived first of course. Three hundred cavalrymen and near a thousand mounts and servants besides. We scoured the area, routing out the few bandits in that dry, barren land, and waited for the rest of our forces to arrive. This fort was to ward off and delay any Median advance through the desert and to defy frustrate the predations of the eastern nomads.
When at last the dirt-kickers arrived the construction of the fort commenced. Eight hundred of them swarmed about the place, kicking up intolerable clouds of dust as they began erecting first walls, then barracks and stables.
Khosroh spat disdainfully at that: "It is the horse," he sneered, "that is truly important. The stables should have been built first." It was a sentiment that we all shared for the three hundred horsemen who would call this desolate fort home were its life blood. We rode day-in and day-out, from dawn to dusk and through the night, and oh! but there was so much joy in the freedom we found. We had signed away two years of luxurious living in Aspadana for a life on the edge of civilization, but the gentle whispers of the desert and the seductive caresses of her winds made the choice well worth it, even without giving consideration to the part we played in Oaxythres' plans, and through him in Great Kyrus' own plans. When we rode out at dawn it was to the endless open desert, and as we returned - that night, a fortnight later - it was towards the welcome sight of our distant mountains; never did we feel as though Aspadana had left us. It was no wonder at all to me that our force of horse grew to six hundreds at times while the infantry dwindled to a mere for hundreds - neither in terms of logistics nor men's hearts.
Save for the Companions the infantry of both Pars and Media were of varying and generally low quality. The craftsmen and hillmen provided quality spearmen, axemen and archers, and their ranks were swelled by local levies. The nobility provided the cavalry, subsidized by state treasuries when on campaign or various postings but otherwise paid for through our own incomes. This was the price we paid for our privilege.
But this posting was not all serenity and ease. On my eleventh patrol the call was raised: horsemen! For three days we trailed these men across the open desert, and it was by now obvious that they could not be called friend. Even through a sandstorm that had us all hunched low over our mounts and whipped the coarse sand into a frenzy did we continue our dogged persuit.
So lost was I that Elosh grabbed my horses bridle. "Salar!" he cried, straining to make his baritone heard over the wind, "the captain has ordered us to stop!" I nodded my thanks. "He says we are to get some rest: he's going to talk to the Others," he continued, jerking his head at the vague forms we had been following, who curiously had also halted.
It was to be a fight. Our foes had grown tired of leading us across the desert and so turned to face us and give battle. We dismounted atop adjacent ridges, and when the sandstorm had abated somewhat, took to horse once again. There were around seventy men in our party, sixty in theirs. "Good, then, eh?" I murmured to Khosroh at my left. "Nice to have a fight out here," and he shuddered. "Better than scrambling like a rabble in the streets," laughed Elosh from my right, and that extracted a wan smile from Khosroh's thin lips and eased the frown line above his thick brows. I fixed a scarf over my mouth and nose to protect myself from the sand - and to wipe the sweat from my palms, that I could better grasp my spear.
As one both sides kicked their mounts forward, down the slopes, screaming our war-cries. I bellowed with them, hoping that Ahura Mazda might see and favor me even through the swirling sand, and then we were crashing among the enemy. I felt a jarring blow on my wicker shield and was nearly unhorsed when my horse shouldered another aside sending it and it's rider screaming into the sand. I felt a cascade of warm blood, thickened by the sand, and was soon warding off spear thrusts and praying the iron scales of my armor held true. I lashed out with my spear but that rider was soon past me, and I could hear Elosh bellowing somewhere behind me, and the sharp nasal cries of our captain.
I lashed out with spear over my shield and it was wrenched from my grasp. I kicked my horse forward, struggling to draw my sword, and then suddenly I was out of the knot of struggling beasts and the cacophony of battle was all behind me.
I whipped my mount about, only to see three enemy riders charging at me! I braced myself for their attack, but the first merely dashed by me, whipping his horse furiously. I was stunned, and so I could do nothing as the other two did just the same.
Just like that the skirmish was over. But we were blooded.
A score or so of the enemy escaped our clutches; another two dozen surrendered, though most of them could not have ridden away due to their injuries. The remainder were dead or dying, and we suffered ten dead ourselves. Elosh had been shot by arrows - twice - and yet still had continued to fight, and many other men were wounded as well.
But we were victorious. Gasping for breath, quaking with relief, but victorious nonetheless. We gathered our dead and wounded, rounded up our prisoners and riderless horses, and rode away. I dismounted briefly to retrieve my spear from a man whose vacant eyes gazed quizzically at me, turning to look me fully in the face as I jerked the blade free from his body. I mounted as fast as I could after that, though the others found a certain humor in the situation that escaped me.