Continued from Chapter 12 - Part IV
Dramatis Personae |
Nabati:
Mun'at Ha'Qadri: General of the Nabati army, tasked with uniting the tribes of Arabia and subduing the Saba' confederations that control Arabia Felix.
Shullai Ha'Maleki: Prince of the Nabati, riding south under Mun'at's command.
Ravîv'êl Bikrum: Crown Prince of the Nabati. Currently governing the conquered settlement of Dedan.
Malka Qênu: King of the Nabati, and leader of the united tribes.
Rana'in: Elder warrior and long-time friend of Mun'at.
Khalil: Raider under Mun'at's command, usually tasked with leading the cavalry and light skirmishers.
Haza'el: Captain of the Nabati.
Wayyuq: A spy and pathfinder in the service of the Nabati, but not of their tribe.
Sabeans (Saba'):
Mubsamat: Queen of the Saba' with ambitions to end the tribal rivalries that plague her people.
Tharin: Captain of Mubsamat's guard, tasked with contacting the approaching Nabati on Mubsamat's behalf and bringing them over to her cause.
Zaadi Il'Bayyin: Often referred to as "Lord of the Northpass", Zaadi is a Qayl (higher official) of the Saba', and the ringleader of a group of nobles arrayed against Mubsamat.
Halik Il'Yakif: Landowner and noble of the Saba' who initially followed Zaadi's plans but has since been turned by Mubsamat.
Far'am Rafshan: Half-Qatabani exile who was in league with Zaadi Il'Bayyin, until Zaadi killed him.
Karab: Son of the Athtar Yazi' clan and great leader of the Hashidi warriors of the northern plateau. He is also in league with Zaadi against Mubsamat.
Hasan: Deceased brother of Karab.
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Chapter 12
Brother's Blood
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(Part V)
"What happened?" Zaadi hissed, keeping his voice low. His question was answered only with shrugs and blank stares from the men standing nearby. Karab would surely know what it was, or at least have men already finding out, but Karab was nowhere to be seen, something else which worried Zaadi. He pushed that to the back of his mind though, for there were more pressing concerns to be dealt with.
All had been going as planned, better even, for when Zaadi pulled himself over the wall's crest he had been met with the wide white eyes of a startled boy holding a spear. But the youth had gawped like a fish out of water, seeming utterly unaware of what his weapon was for, and without hesitation Zaadi had swung his own blade. The sharpened iron bit deep into the boy's flesh just above the shoulder, carving its way inwards and down toward the young man's heart. Zaadi felt two ribs break from the force of the strike, and with a jerk he heaved the sword out, the body falling dead at his feet with a crash. And then there had been silence. To Zaadi's left and right had been other guardsmen spaced irregularly along the parapets, but his Houthis and Hashidis had done well. Nearly all had managed to swing over the wall within moments of one another, and in one fell swoop they had slaughtered the paltry garrison manning the battlements. There had been a a flurry of noise attending each isolated mortal combat between one man and another, but then silence, with no sign that a general alarm had been raised or that the citadel would be made fast. And then the night had been split by an explosion off to Zaadi's right, the rumble of it shaking the rooftops as it rolled across Ma'rib.
Zaadi continued staring at the men standing about him on the ramparts, trying by sheer will to force one to know what it was that had caused the blast, whether more would follow. But try as he might, they were as ignorant as he, and no amount of barbed glances would suddenly gift them knowledge or wisdom. And then out of the corner of his eye Zaadi saw something that was truly troubling, a figure running down the main avenue of Ma'rib toward the citadel. There were no torches lining the streets, for fuel was costly and not to be spent dispelling the gloom of night when all were sleeping, but the sky above was clear, the pale moon shining down, and her dim radiance picked out in ghostly hues the image of a man making all haste to the cracked red fist of a mount upon which Ma'rib's fortress stood.
"That man..." Zaadi said quietly. Then, with more force, "That man must be stopped." He glanced left and right at his soldiers, but all simply stood there, expressionless and motionless. "Bows, you fools!" Zaadi shouted, forgetting in his frustration their need for quiet, for secrecy. "Put an arrow through him, before he gets away!"
Nearly all the men near Zaadi held axes, short swords, or half-spears, weapons suited for the gristly work of killing fellow countrymen up close, but a few had strung bows slung across their backs as well. Of those few, two were competent and alert enough to get arrows nocked, drawn, and loosed before the retreating figure down the road could get beyond their range. They sighted and fired, the whistling shafts arcing high overhead, and before the first volley had landed they had another beginning its journey. They were good archers, the both of them, capable of hitting a melon at a hundred paces. But hitting a still melon under the noonday sun is not the same as shooting a running man at night, his silhouette only dimly picked out by the wan and ghostly light of the moon. They fired again and again for as long as the distant man might still be hoped to be hit, but each arrow clattered harmlessly off the stones of the street or lodged itself into the wood of a door, the thatch of a roof, and before they could properly adjust their aims, the man had gotten too far. He had escaped. He had escaped and he would warn the citadel's garrison, a force sure to be far more troubling than the outer watchmen had been.
It seemed the fight for Ma'rib had not yet been won. It had only just begun.
Continue to Chapter 13 - Part I