Continued from Chapter 6 - Part V
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 6
The Highest Eagles
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(Part VI)
Arrows rained down from a cloudless sky, striking all across the plain that lay before Zaadi's fortress. The siege towers of the half-Qatabani attackers, however, continued in their stolid advance, their rears hiding tight presses of men seeking the cover of the heavy wooden engines. Each tower was unique, made, as they were, of supplies scavenged from all parts of the valley, yet as they slowly pushed forward, they began to look more similar. With each minute, ever more arrows flew toward them, and before long the high wooden structures were bristling with feathered shafts, making them look like great sea urchins come to conquer the land.
Between the creaking towers moved close-packed units of desert spearmen, a small number of them carrying long ladders. Next to the lumbering hulks of the higher engines, the men seemed lithe and fragile, but they walked with cold determination, and were undaunted by the unbroken hail of fire that poured down from the fortress walls. With each volley, they simply raised their broad shields, locking them together above their heads, and continued on.
As the attacking army drew closer and the Saba' arrows fell to such little effect, Zaadi called for his archers to still their bows. He then ordered them to quit the walls and go down to the stables and kitchens, where they were to gather straw, wood, and oil, and bring them back with all haste. The men looked at one another with uncertainty in their eyes, but all did as were asked, and as they filed down the spindly stairs hanging from the ramparts spear- and axemen climbed up to fill the gaps atop the battlements. The line infantry could do nothing until the army on the plain had gained their positions, but they did well to press a show of strength, to make certain that the half-Qatabani understood that the warriors of Saba' would not give up without a fight.
The besiegers outside the fortress could not know that Zaadi had removed his ranged units from the walls, but they did take note of the suddenly clear skies. With upturned eyes and cautious optimism the infantry carrying the ladders began to quicken their feet, shooting past the siege towers that plod forward with such agonizing slowness. In a few short moments, they had passed over the last stretch of smoothed earth before the battlements, and they made themselves ready for the first push.
A stalwart cry was raised by the men below the walls, and one by one their long ladders were slowly tilted up towards the waiting Saba' defenders. Yet as those lighter implements of assault swung skyward, it rapidly became clear just how hurried and haphazard the half-Qatabani's siege was. The ladders were rickety and irregular, with perhaps half of them, at most, possessing a length fitting for the walls they were meant to overcome. The rest either fell short, terminating well below the crest of the spear-capped battlements, or were overlong and cumbersome, reaching far above the heads of the Saba'. However, despite those failings, the warriors of Far'am's people made do as best they could. The shorter lengths were placed at sharper angles, the longer set further away, and before long there was nothing left but for the men below to climb.
All along the length of the fortress' southern ramparts, the half-blood warriors began to ascend, each man climbing with one hand, the other holding his shield above his head. Those nearest the ladders' feet clambered to be the next to go up, to have the chance to draw first blood, while those further back hastily went to assist the teams pushing the siege towers. Yet still there came no reports from the defenders above. There were no more arrows fired out, nor stones cast down, and no spearmen moved to push off the ladders that now lay so heavy with attackers. Zaadi's bowmen had returned, rapidly carrying out their lord's orders, but once finished they too remained at peace, giving no combat to the half-Qatabani rising up the fortress walls.
As the soldiers of Far'am's people neared the crest of the citadel's ramparts, the first of the siege towers reached the thick stone walls as well. The lumbering wooden engines creaked and swayed with the weight of so many men within them, but they stood fast. Then, slowly, their faces opened, broad gangways swinging down and bridging the gap between the towers and the fortress walls.
Despite their ponderous descents, the drawbridges of the siege towers came down with stone-splitting crashes, and the half-Qatabani warriors were bounding across them before the last echoes had snapped from the nearby mountains. From east to west, the invading men of Far'am's tribe were gaining the heights of Zaadi's home, and they moved forward with vengeance and glory ringing in their upraised voices. However, as soon as they set foot atop the broad wall that comprised the fortress' outermost defense, they fell silent. The men looked about themselves, searching for some enemy to strike, but they saw only friends. Zaadi's soldiers, the Saba', were nowhere to be found.
Confusion and a note of panic sliding through the half-Qatabani ranks, the attackers shuffled along the walls, seeking some way into the citadel's courtyard. Yet they could find no ladders to bring them to the stones of the interior, and the rough wooden staircases that had earlier afforded passage down were nowhere to be found. Unsure of what else to do, or where to look, the half-Qatabani pushed toward the squat towers that periodically protruded from the walls. The men of Far'am's tribe moved cautiously, their shields raised and locked together as they made for the nearest structure, and when they finally reached it, understanding of Zaadi's plan dawned upon them.
Looking into the round tower's interior, the half-Qatabani saw that the stairwell within had been pulled down hastily, the pile of rubble below augmented by a scattering of the dry wood and straw Zaadi's bowmen had gathered, and over it all hung the heavy scent of oil. As the men above stared into the fuel-filled chasm, they noticed a flickering shadow in the doorway below. A flaming brand then streaked across their vision, arcing into the room, and the small space exploded in light and heat. The oil-soaked wood and hay caught in an instant, and fire spiraled up the tower's hollow center. The half-Qatabani nearest the rising inferno were scorched before they could even think to turn about and run, their throats and lungs burned from the inside as they inhaled air hot enough to sear hearthstones. Those behind them struggled to escape, but they too were caught in the hellish blaze, their screams nearly overpowered by the roar of the flames. The tower itself was made of stone and would not burn, but all within would be consumed, and there would be no hope for Far'am's people to breach Zaadi's fortress by that way.
Only a handful of soldiers from within the now flaming tower were near enough to an exit to escape, and as they regained the walls and open air they saw with horror that their so recent trial had been but one of many. Every raised buttress and outcropping on the fortress walls had become a furnace, the fires within licking through arrow-slits and blackened doorframes. The cries of vengeance had turned to wailing laments, screams for mercy, but there was no help to be found. The half-Qatabani already upon the walls could not move forward, for there was no way to enter Zaadi's citadel from where they stood, but from the plain below there still rose a steady stream of men on the ladders and within the siege towers. Those above tried to halt them, to turn them about, but the rising tide of soldiers could not hear their comrades' warnings, and could see only smoke above the fotress, but not its source, nor the threat they were moving toward.
As more and more pushed their way onto the battlements, the press became increasingly dense and panicked. The flames would not spread beyond the confines of the stone buildings in which they had been set, but a thick black smoke hung in the air, choking any who stood before it as the shifting winds drove it this way and that. And yet still there was nothing the half-blood attackers could do. Nothing but to huddle together and pray that the gods would see them through, somehow.
More half-Qatabani continued to climb the ladders and siege towers, but slowly the terror upon the walls made itself felt in those ascending, and they quickly relyed the sentiment to the soldiers upon the plain. As the army below began to comprehend that something was amiss, they moved closer to the ladders, shouting questions to those above, asking what was wrong, and what might be done to help them. But then suddenly they too were cast in panic and disarray as Zaadi's machinations came to full fruition.
While the fires had burned, the Saba' had stolen forth from the citadel in secret, exiting via a postern gate at the far side of the walls. Smoke had whipped over the ramparts and dusty plain, concealing their movements, and taking full advantage of the half-Qatabani's ignorance, Zaadi had moved behind the rearmost units of the besieging force. When finally his men were prepared, he had raised his spear high into the air, held it motionless for a moment, and then with finality pulled the haft down quickly, thrusting its point into the earth.
As one man, the Saba' warriors had loosed their arrows, firing them in high arcs over the battlefield. They shot from such a distance, and at so sharp an angle, that the speedier among them had already sent a second volley before the first had even struck. And then, with shouts of confusion and pain from the half-blood enemy, the deadly rain began to fall.
At first, the soldiers of Far'am's people did not know what was happening. Before them, the men upon the walls still continued to search for some way forward, or back, but they had given no report of archers or slingers firing from within the keep. And yet, for the besiegers on the plain, death surrounded them on all sides. Men were falling headlong into the dust, their necks and backs bristling with the feathered shafts of Saba' arrows, and those living could find no source of the barbed rain. After a moment more of utter terror, the half-Qatabani then noted with dark brows that the arrows falling from the sky were only striking them in their backs. They turned on their heels, raising their shields as the did so, and saw behind them the entirety of Zaadi's garrison. The Saba' spear- and axemen lay locked in tight lines, and just past them stood the archers, firing mercilessly and without break.
The half-Qatabani had been surrounded. On one side lay fire and stone, on the other brittle iron and red vengeance, and they were trapped. If they broke and routed, Zaadi's men would surely slaughter them all, just as the Lord of the Northpass had promised. They would be killed one by one as they attempted to flee, pierced in their backs as they sought the coward's escape.
The commander of the besieging army, the man who had executed the Saba' saboteurs at daybreak, looked from his men to those of Zaadi, and his brow creased heavily. Sadness and resignation flooded his features as he saw his inevitable doom, and that of his people, but after the initial wave of shameful self-pity he fought to master himself. Nearly half of his force lay trapped on the walls, unable to come down for the fools still trying to climb the ladders, and it was clear to him that his tribes would be broken that day. Yet despite this, it was still possible for some of them to free themselves, to escape the maw of oblivion. All that was necessary was that the Saba' be occupied, their gaze held fully, while those that could fled across the dusty plain, retreating to the borderlands which the half-bloods called home. Such a mercy was still within their grasp.
The half-Qatabani general called for runners, as many as could be found, and as soon as each arrived, he quickly sent them away again, with orders to sound a general retreat. As the last of them departed, he then raised his spear and began to charge toward the Saba' lines, his voice ringing out in fury and challenge. The half-blood warriors nearest to him followed suit, running at his side with weapons and shields held tightly, while behind them the remainder of the besieging force began to break and flee in all directions.
Zaadi's soldiers had set themselves far from the half-Qatabani ranks, as far as they could while still being able to fire upon them. However, the half-blood commander and those following him moved with a speed and fury terrible to behold, their tired limbs driven by rage and the certainty that they were doomed men, whose shortened lives would afford no more than a single chance to strike at the murderer who had slain their lord. Far'am's people would take that chance.
As they sped across the plain, a cloud of dust climbed behind them, its tenebrous shade mixing with that of the smoke hanging in the air. The cover would hide some shape of the fleeing half-Qatabani's movements, and for their commander was glad. The thought briefly smoothed his features, putting a glint of satisfaction in his eyes, but it was quickly wiped away as he and his men met the Saba' lines.
The half-Qatabani barreled into Zaadi's ranks without thought for safety or survival. They knew their feet were already treading the shores of night, and the knowledge set them into a frenzy of bloodlust and violence. By day's end they would walk the sunset lands, but would not enter them alone.
The spearmen lunged forward, batting away the Saba' warriors weapons, and the swordsmen swung wildly, hewing a path of blood and agony through Zaadi's ranks. On they pressed, without mercy, and though many of the half-blood soldiers fell, they soon had carved a path clear through the Saba' linemen, reaching the archers who were hiding behind them. The bowmen were unarmored, and poorly armed for close combat, and the warriors of Far'am's people cut them down in droves, swinging their weapons with the cold detachment of a farmer bringing in the autumn's harvest.
They continued to reap their bloody harvest, and for a moment it seemed they might even be triumphant. All around the half-blood commander, his soldiers were fighting valiantly, heedless of the wounds they had suffered or the weariness creeping through their limbs. They were borne up by glory, honor, and vengeful justice, and though they would surely fall the moment their combat had ended, until that time they were as gods in human raiment, untouchable and almighty. That was what the leader of the half-Qatabani saw as he looked on his men, but then his gaze moved toward the Saba' surrounding him, and the sensation of immortality passed in an instant. There were many dead scattered over the plain, half-Qatabani and Saba' alike, but as the berserker charge had driven into Zaadi's ranks, the Saba' had calmly closed behind their attackers, encircling them. The half-bloods had indeed fought valiantly, but they were alone, with enemies on all sides, pressing ever further in. Looking about himself, the half-Qatabani commander saw that his men had had the same thought, and with it their spirits had broken. They continued to struggle against their foes, but their strength was gone, and soon enough they were falling faster than the Saba'. The commander hacked left and right, delaying a death that was now inescapable, and he strained to see past the battle raging around him, to discover whether any of his people had escaped. However, the smoke and dust concealed everything beyond that which immediately surrounded him. He was trapped in a shrinking world of gore, pain, and oblivion.
He gave a ragged cry of defiance, hoping to rally his men for a final charge, but his call was cut short when an arrow struck him. The feathered shaft buried itself deeply in his chest, and he fell to his knees, clutching at his breast. He gazed down at the hateful object, blood welling around it, and then turned his eyes to the men about him. They were falling one by one, looks of sadness and terror fixed on their faces. They had fought as men, together, but they were dying scared and alone.
The life ebbing from his body, the half-blood commander dropped toward his right, collapsing in the dust, and as he lay there he saw nearby a soldier staring wide-eyed and breathing shallowly. The man was on the brink, looking into worlds unknown, and it was clear that fear was all that he felt. The commander had little strength left within him, but with that which remained, he pulled himself toward the dying man. He then slowly reached out, taking the man's hand in his, and together they slid into the dark.
Continue to Chapter 6 - Part VII