In the previous chapter I wrote that there were four attacking tribes: it's actually five.
Sorry for the mistake.
The Daemon called Hayreddin
Ravenna stood with his men as they rained arrows into the enemy. They had been rotated to the stretch of wall adjacent to the main gate of Ain, which still weathered blow after blow from the battering rams of the invaders. The grizzled warrior decapitated an enemy warrior that had scaled the walls before kicking down the siege ladder that leaned against it. Ravenna grunted in pain as an arrow nicked his arm from the temporary exposure.
The sun continued to rise and Ravenna found that noon could not come soon enough. They had been at it since dawn and both sides were exhausted, though the enemy had suffered far more casualties than the defenders of Ain. Ravenna turned to look at the gates; three cohorts of the elite of Ain's defence forces stood guard behind it; alert and battle-ready even in the unlikely event that the gates were breached. The warrior grunted approvingly, and was about to turn away when he spotted another cohort marching up to join them. He raised an eyebrow; given the way the battle was going, having four cohorts to guard the gates seemed excessive, especially since their fighting prowess could be employed elsewhere. However, his eyes narrowed the newly-arrived cohort marched right past the three already stationed there, moving right up to the gates much to their and Ravenna's confusion.
"What are they…?" muttered Ravenna, but trailed off. His eyes widened in realisation as the cohort suddenly took a circular shield wall formation, facing the defenders while several of them moved to open the gates. "Traitors! Kill them!"
The elite forces of Ain were armed with pistols, rare weapons from a long forgotten age. Ain's defensive forces only had a hundred or so and only used them in battles they could not afford to lose. Now however, those very same precious weapons had been turned against them. The three cohorts assigned behind Ain's gates found their front ranks decimated before they finally recovered and drew their shield wall together before returning fire. The disadvantage of the pistols is that they can only fire a few times before the need to reload, hence the necessity of the warriors bearing the especially thick and heavy shields to protect the shooters while they reload.
Knowing this, the defenders broke ranks and charged the moment the traitors stopped firing, but the traitors' shield wall held even as the traitors tore down the barricades barring the gates.
Ravenna ordered his archers to fire down at the traitors despite the distance. He wanted to lead his men down to reinforce the defences around the gates, but as though sensing what was going on, the enemy renewed their attack, forcing the defenders to stay on the wall.
Ravenna swore as the gate barricades were steadily torn down.
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Kuba gaped at the messenger who brought the news of what was going on at the gates, his knuckles whitening as he clenched his fists. Hayreddin stared in the direction of the gates, his sharp eyes making out details of the battle raging there, his expression outwardly calm, but his mind racing.
"Do we know who they are?" asked Hayreddin.
"No sir," answered the messenger.
Hayreddin nodded; it didn't matter at the moment, but he was worried that there may be more traitors in their ranks. "What about the rest of our forces?"
"Sir, the attacks on the wall has been redoubled, the majority of our forces are engaged," answered the messenger.
Hayreddin gritted his teeth; sending more men wouldn't resolve the situation, the traitors had established a good defensive position. But in the current situation, there was no way to win back the gates, except for ordering the archers to fire indiscriminately from the walls.
"We should gather what forces we have and prepare to repel the enemy," said Kuba. Hayreddin nodded, it was the only viable option at the moment. Kuba gave the necessary orders as Hayreddin turned back to stare at the wall. Despite the defenders' fierce counter attack, the shield wall of the traitors stubbornly held as more and more of the barricades fell.
"This must be Wara's doing."
Hayreddin and Kuba whirled around to see Elder Nebud. The old man's face was pale, and he looked extremely weary.
"Elder, what are you doing here? You should be resting," said Hayreddin, going over to him, trying not to stare at the bandaged stump where Nebud's right arm used to be.
Nebud shook his head as he walked slowly but steadily to watch the events unfolding at the gates. He still looked weak from his wounds, and Hayreddin wondered how he had managed to climb to the top of the tower in his condition.
"The Kaling have yet to make their move," said Nebud quietly. "Once those gates are opened, they'll definitely be leading the charge."
"Kuba's already given the orders, we're prepared…" began Hayreddin, but Nebud shook his head.
"You've never seen the Kaling in battle before, Hayreddin. They are zealous warriors," said Nebud. "Their fury in battle…"
Before he could finish, the traitors began to push the gates open.
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As the gates slowly opened, groaning like a wounded Biwak, chants were heard from beyond the wall, rising steadily and reaching a thunderous volume once the gates were fully opened.
Like a surging tide, the Kaling charged forward. The arrows fired by the defenders into their ranks whittled down some of them, but most was met with raised light shields and their charge barely slowed.
With their young chieftain Sidura at their head, the Kaling smashed into the defenders, killing scores of them. Sidura and his tribesmen fought like raging daemons, killing many of Ain's soldiers before the defenders were able to rally. Even when they did, they were hard-pressed by the Kaling and their enraged chieftain.
Nebud and Kuba watched grimly from the barracks tower; the rest of the defence forces were engaged elsewhere and every single available troops they had had already been deployed to the gates, where they were mowed down relentlessly by the Kaling.
To make matters worse, reports had come in that the Maru were also mustering in preparation for a second wave. There was nothing they could do. Nebud and Kuba exchanged looks helplessly before they suddenly noticed something.
Hayreddin was missing.
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Hayreddin had left the tower in order to get help from the last fighting force available to Ain.
The seven remaining chieftains.
But he did not have to go far, before long he came face to face with them; Kazanah, Horun, Berkhan, Sovah, Ibiz, Umiz and Ordo. Each chieftain had come with the personal guard they had brought to Ain; the elite warriors from their tribes.
"Honoured chieftains," said Hayreddin in undisguised surprised and relief.
Kazanah inclined his head. "Wara is a slippery snake; I guessed that he would have someone on the inside, am I right?"
"Indeed," answered Hayreddin. He paused and bowed his head. "Honoured chieftains, I said before that I would ask for your help when the time comes...I'm afraid that that time is now."
Berkhan growled approvingly. "Finally! No more skulking behind the walls! Let the Ber show how real warriors fight!"
Berkhan's warriors roared with approval while the Horun and Kaganagh scowled.
"Real warriors show their true worth on the battlefield, not through their speeches," remarked the Kaganagh chieftain, making the Ber warriors growl warningly, but Berkhan simply grinned menacingly.
Hayreddin nodded. "Right now the Kaling are pressing down the main road from gates; I'd like to the Kaganagh, Ber and Taring to lead the attack down the centre…"
"Wait, you want us to fight together?" exclaimed Berkhan, jerking his thumb at Horun.
"It's not enough to simply kill our enemies, honoured chieftain," answered Hayreddin, his patience wearing thin. He did not have time to placate each chieftain. "We need to push them out of the city…"
"Then send the Ber down the middle alone and keep the others behind us," snapped Berkhan, but Hayreddin had had enough.
"For spirit's sake! We have an army charging down the streets after our heads and you still have time to argue for the sake of your martial pride!" shouted Hayreddin. "Pride is worth nothing if we're all dead in the dust! Just listen to the damned battle plan and follow it!"
The chieftains were silent, shocked by Hayreddin's outburst. Eventually Hayreddin realised what he just did and bowed slowly, breathing heavily.
"Honoured chieftains," he ground out between his teeth.
Kazanah and Horun started laughing, as did Ibiz, Umiz and Ordo while Sovah shook his head with amusement. Berkhan looked stunned.
"We'll do as you say, Hayreddin," said Kazanah, still chuckling. "What's the plan?"
Hayreddin laid out his battle plan and the chieftains agreed to follow it, though Berkhan agreed grudgingly. As the chieftains and their warriors marched towards the gates, Horun paused as he came up to Hayreddin.
"Will you join us?" asked Horun, grinning as he gave the haft of his battle-axe a squeeze.
Hayreddin hesitated for a moment; he had never taken a life in battle before; not even during the pirate raids in Nuba. If he joined in, he would most certainly have to kill people. But then, he thought of the people of Ain, taking refuge deep within the city, he thought of the poor messenger that the enemy had killed in such a cruel manner; the enemy would do the same to everyone if they won; women, children, the old, the helpless, the innocent, everyone. He thought of that happening to Elder Nebud, Isan and Ravenna, and his heart hardened with hatred.
Hayreddin nodded and there was an uncharacteristic edge to his normally soft voice. "Yes, I will."
Horun looked a little surprised, but pleased. Exceedingly pleased.
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Sidura roared as he drove his spear through an enemy's skull; revelling in the man's death gargles. He kicked the dead man off his spear and rammed it through another soldier's chest. Death was all around him, the stench of blood and human waste filled his nostrils, the agonised screams of his enemies was music to his ears and the sensation of his pounding heart and racing blood drove him deeper into his killing frenzy.
He knew that the spirits and the ghosts of his father and ancestors were smiling down upon him and he yelled out a victory cry as he jammed his spear down an enemy's throat. None can stop the Kaling on this glorious day!
So certain was Sidura of his impending victory that he almost failed to notice the turning point. All of a sudden, Kaling warriors were falling around him and he looked up, his fury dulled with sudden confusion. He saw that the enemy chieftains had joined the fray. His confusion turned to rage as he saw Kaling warriors fall beneath the combined might of the Taring, Kaganagh, Ber, Huraiz, Sina, Battuta and Hang. But his rage reached even greater heights when he saw the murderers of his father: Horun and Berkhan. The two chieftains were roaring in fury as they mowed down Kaling warriors with their battle-axes.
With a shout, Sidura raised his spear, rallying the Kaling. Taking heart from their young chieftain's example, the Kaling fought back with renewed vigour. But with the combined might of the enemy chieftains and the defenders of Ain, the Kaling's momentum from their initial success stalled and they were steadily being forced back; forcing their enemy to fight for every inch of ground, but still being pushed back nevertheless.
What truly turned the tide against the Kaling was the appearance of the daemon.
Sidura had seen it before; it wore the guise of a bewitchingly beautiful young man and spoke with a voice that was pleasing to the ears. But his father Asok had warned him from falling for the daemon's charms. Asok had told Sidura about how the spirit-speakers of their tribe had sensed the wrongness of the daemon despite its alluring appearance and seemingly-benevolent intentions. Underneath that fair guise, Asok had spoken of something terrible lurking underneath.
Now, Sidura saw that his father had been right.
The daemon that called itself Hayreddin had stepped onto the battlefield, and the Kaling found their ranks being devastated. Sidura stared with horror as scores of Kaling warriors fell within seconds to blows that were too fast, skill too sublime and a menacing fury far beyond anything that could be considered human. As the daemon paused, its sword crimson with Kaling blood, the hatred Sidura could see twisting the beautiful face sent a wave of fear down his spine. He felt frozen in the face of its hatred.
It nearly cost him his life.
Sidura turned in time to see Horun charging him, and leaped to the side just in time to avoid the battle-axe of the Kaganagh chieftain. Hissing, Sidura fought back, seeking to use his speed and reach to his advantage, but Horun was an experienced warrior and kept up with the younger chieftain with minimal difficulty.
Around them, the Kaling were falling back in the face of the combined onslaught of the enemy chieftains and Ain's defenders, but more than that, they all but fled in the face of Hayreddin's fury.
"How could you do this?" snarled Sidura as a thrust from his spear was deflected.
"Do what?" asked Horun almost conversationally as he attacked with a series of savage swings that had Sidura backing away quickly.
"Side with that daemon!" spat Sidura, hissing in pain as the Kaganagh chieftain scored a glancing blow on side. "You see him? The way he speaks, the way he charms people, the way he fights...it's all unnatural...it's inhuman!"
Horun snorted. "The boy is gifted, that is all I see. Far more gifted than anyone I have met; but that's no reason to consider him a daemon."
Sidura snarled and lunged at Horun, who blocked the blow. The two of them lock weapons for a moment, the Kaganagh chieftain's strength clearly the greater as he forced Sidura back.
"That's the weakness you and your father share," said Horun. "Always afraid of something different, accusing it to be the deeds of daemons, and justifying your own atrocities with the spirits."
Sidura roared with fury and tried to shove Horun back, but the Kaganagh chieftain was too strong. "Atrocities? Your tribe have committed the same acts a thousand times over!"
Horun smiled grimly. "Maybe, but we don't hide behind the spirits when we do it."
With a growl, Horun shoved Sidura back and followed through with a savage swing that broke Sidura's spear. The young Kaling chieftain stared into the Kaganagh chieftain's eyes, mustering all the hatred he could, knowing he was beaten.
"The other weakness you and Asok share is your reckless temper," said Horun. "On the battlefield, you should always stand with your men, not alone."
Sidura looked around and saw that he was completely surrounded by enemies. The Kaling were either fleeing or lying dead in growing pools of blood.
As Horun's battle-axe clove through his torso, Sidura cursed everything: his father's death, his father's murderers, his enemies, the defeat of his tribe, Wara, his weakness, but above all, he cursed the daemon called Hayreddin.
As he died, Sidura experienced one last moment of despair, knowing that he was the last chieftain of the Kaling.
His tribe was doomed
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Hayreddin's senses felt as if they were on fire. His sword was red from the blood of his enemies, as was his face. The enemy could not touch him; every strike of their weapons seemed ridiculously telegraphed to him, so he effortlessly wove in and out between strikes, every swing of his blade ended the life of a Kaling warrior.
Hayreddin was aware that he was killing the fathers, brothers and sons of other people, but at the moment, that fact was distant, almost unimportant as those same men would do the same to Ain's people. He knew if he allowed himself to feel once again, the guilt and grief of it would weigh him down. If he allowed that to happen, then the counter-attack could quite possibly fail as his sharp eyes spotted that the Maru were already making their move.
Right now, all that mattered to Hayreddin was protecting Ain and its people; and that meant slaying every enemy in his path. Compassion and mercy had no place in the heat of battle. As the battle raged on, Hayreddin became what Beduin had been calling him for years; what the Kaling were calling him even as they fled screaming towards the gates.
A daemon.
