Til Time: The Sultan's Siege

By Matthew Ryan

After three years in Edinburgh, Imogen Blaine has returned to London. She expects that a lot of things will have changed among her old school friends, especially with her best friend, Ashton Sinclair. She has no idea how much.

Their reunion takes a turn when the two are abruptly transported to an unfamiliar place... and time. Faced with the mystery of their sudden time travel and a strange land eight centuries in the past, they find themselves in grave danger as the forces of two opposing worlds clash violently around them.

The only people they can rely on are each other. The Sultan's Siege awaits...

• Language: English
• Publisher: Matthew Ryan
• Release date: Sep 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005991593

Matthew Ryan

Born in Sydney, Australia, at the tail-end of the twentieth century, Matthew Ryan grew up a love for books, rock music, computers, history, science, and Karate. His first attempt at writing a book occurred at the age of twelve, focusing on a young Saxon hero who becomes king and conquers Europe. While the plot was of the quality expected from a twelve-year-old, his descriptive language and ability to world-build were surprisingly good. Ever since then, he has worked tirelessly on the Merchant's Blade (yet to be finished), developing his writing style to a professional level, before turning away from his day job in a chemistry lab and writing the first book of the Til Time series. From here, who knows what will happen. There are another sixty book ideas rattling around in his head, all seeking the light of day.

Book preview

Books by Matthew Ryan

TIL TIME

The Sultan’s Siege

The Frankish Fille

…

The Sultan’s Siege

Matthew Ryan

Til Time: The Sultan’s Siege

By Matthew Ryan

Copyright 2022 Matthew Ryan

Smashwords Edition

The moral right of the author has been asserted in accordance with the Australian Copyright Act 1968. All rights reserved.

This e-book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This e-book may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favourite e-book retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Cover design and illustration by Kateryna Surkis.

Table of Contents

Return to London

A Different Time

The Tafilah Market

Stick Together

In the Company of ibn Diyar

Men of Faith

The Siege of Kerak

Every Plan in History

An Adventure of Sorts

Historical Context

As this is my first book, it is only fitting that I dedicate it to my family, for it is their continuous support, encouragement, and love over the past two decades that have brought me to this point.

For my dad, who made sure I put my all into this.

For my mum, who showed her excitement every day.

For Lauren, my sister, who kept me honest and gave me plenty of inspiration.

For my grandparents.

For my cousins.

For my aunts and uncles.

Know that, even though I may not repeat it, every book I write after this is dedicated to you as well.

Return to London

Distant sounds of cars and people had faded away, the omnipresent hum of the city becoming almost inaudible. The air was still and temperate, a little humid, though not enough to be uncomfortable. Overhead, the sky was packed with clouds. A typical late summer night in London.

Her shoes tapped rhythmically against the pavement as Imogen made her way down the street towards Davie’s house. Her hands were stuffed into the pockets of her hoodie to keep them occupied, just as Doctor Acheson had suggested. From her shoulder, a small canvas bag clinked with the sound of glass and metal as it swung with each stride.

Slowly but surely, the sound of muffled music, shouting, and laughter grew stronger. Imogen began mentally reading off the house numbers as she passed them: 44, 46, 48, 50…

As she reached number 52, she noticed that all the surrounding buildings were dark. That’s probably for the best, she thought. No one wants to be around when your twenty-one-year-old neighbour throws a party for all his old school friends.

Imogen took the three steps up to the front door in a single stride, which was easy enough in her leather sneakers, and raised her fist to knock on the blue-painted door. She paused, suddenly feeling more than a little unsure of herself.

I haven’t seen any of these people in three years. I’m looking in on a life I haven’t lived since I was eighteen. Who knows how much has changed?

That’s a ridiculous idea. Three years was a lot for a child, but I’m not a child. Neither are any of my friends.

Imogen looked down at her hand, now hanging limp at her side, and furrowed her brow. She raised her arm again, ready to knock, and hesitated for a second time.

Am I supposed to knock?

No, that would be silly. This is a party thrown by a twenty-one-year-old who wasted his football scholarship on some kind of sport sciences degree that he isn’t going to use. He’s not going to care if I knock or not.

She brashly pushed the door open, still frowning a little, and stepped inside.

Immediately, the noise and light hit her like a celebratory hurricane. She closed the door and glanced to her left, coming face-to-face with a young man in his late twenties.

He leant back in surprise. Woah. You’re the… second tallest person so far? He straightened a little, cocking his head as he studied her. Though you’d give the other girl a run for her money.

Imogen absently clenched her hand around the strap of her bag before stuffing it back into her pocket. Thank you? Not quite the welcome I was expecting.

He picked up a phone and looked down at it. Name?

She didn’t answer immediately, and he looked back up, pushing a mop of blond hair out of his face. I have a list. Gotta check you off.

She nodded slowly. Really? That seems more organised than Davie normally is. My name’s Imogen. Blaine.

After a moment, he nodded. You’re on here. And this isn’t Davie’s house, it’s mine and my mates’. My little brother is just a lodger.

Imogen allowed herself a small smile. That’s pretty brave of you, letting your little brother host a party with a bunch of rowdy youths.

The young man, who resembled an older version of Davie in multiple ways, laughed. Nothing I didn’t do myself when I was a ‘youth’. Didn’t have a list then, but as you can tell, I learnt from that mistake. Make sure you don’t break anything, cause, you know, I have your name.

Imogen gazed down the hallway towards the cacophony of partygoers and nodded. I’m not the one you need to worry about.

The older guy studied her again. Yeah, I think I believe you. Have fun though, let loose a little. Don’t let me stop you from enjoying the night.

She took a step and glanced back at him and the empty hallway table next to him. Do you want something to drink? It’s pretty early, you might be waiting a while before everyone turns up.

Davie’s brother shook his head. Thanks, but nah. I’ll be right.

Imogen walked down the hallway, coming abruptly to a large open space. There was a kitchen on the left, a dining room to the right, and a lounge just past it around the corner. The space was full of people, as was the small yard out the back door. Young men and women were dancing around on the grass, but inside, people were standing and sitting in bundles, trying to talk over the music.

Someone screeched from the kitchen, and Imogen whirled around to see a tanned, natural-blond-haired girl in a tight blue dress hurrying towards her.

Imogen! Oh my God, is that you?

Imogen smiled. Christina, hi! It’s been a while. Okay, here we go.

Christina grabbed her arm and dragged her into the kitchen, where three other girls were standing around. Tell me about it, she replied. We haven’t seen you since sixth form. You look so different! She began playing with Imogen’s red hair, which was currently braided and hanging over her shoulder.

Well, three years is a lot of time to change, Imogen replied, pulling her hair back gently. You look different, too. You didn’t give up on that platinum blond look you were always after, did you?

Christina giggled. Yeah. It just wasn’t doing it for me. And my natural hair colour is pretty enough.

One of the other girls interjected. It looks so hot, Chrissy. Especially curled like that.

Christina went a little red. Oh, stop it, Abby, she replied, her coy smile lingering a little more than usual.

Abby, Imogen thought. Thank God. Now I just need to get them all to say their names and it won’t seem like I’ve forgotten who everyone is.

Abby, if Imogen recalled correctly, was one of the odder members of Christina’s high school clique. The others were all hot, bottle-blond, popular girls, but Abby was always quiet. She was also a brunette with a streak of blue dyed in, which made her stand out from the others in the kitchen. There was something else important, but she couldn’t remember what.

Imogen scanned the stuff on the benchtop before them. What are you making?

Christina grabbed a cocktail shaker. We’re making martinis. I’ve been working in a bar for a while, so I thought I’d make use of my skills tonight. Do you want one?

One of the other girls – clearly already a few drinks in – clapped in excitement. Yeah, join us! she giggled.

A martini, shaken, with… Yeah, that’s olive brine. How do people drink that? She smiled but shook her head, hiding her sense of unease. I’m good. I brought my own drinks. I might go around and say hi to everyone first, but I’ll come back to chat.

She shrugged off her jacket and left it on a stool next to her tote bag. Christina eyed the biceps and shoulders that showed through the black Witcher t-shirt and grinned cheekily.

Will you say hi to Simon, too? I bet he’d love to see you like this. Those muscles would send him into a stammer. Are all the lasses like that in Scotland?

Over her shoulder, Imogen noticed Abby frowning slightly at Christina, and she felt an immediate sense of awkwardness as something clicked. She folded her arms. No, just me. And Simon… I don’t care, one way or the other. We dated for barely two months, and it was just no fun. I’m sure he’s forgotten about me.

Christina smirked. I don’t think you realise the effect you have on people like him. You always had that hot, loner aesthetic, and it’s weirdly attractive. He all but flunked A levels after you broke up, remember? I’m pretty sure he’s on anti-depressants now. You left one hell of a hole in his heart.

Imogen screwed her face up into a grimace. Great. I’ll try to avoid him. I don’t want to upset him. She slipped one of the bottles of cider from her bag. "I’ll leave you to your bartending antics. Talk to you all