The Gathering Storm: The Paladin Chronicles, #3

By Neil Port

Bumper edition!

This is an Epic, firstly of peace , and then war on many fronts.
Jacinta has been badly injured in her fight with a daimôn. It seems she will have to give up her dream of being a warrior. A group of young women desperately need her help, but how can she help them when she can't help herself?
The elves and their allies have a period of peace, but it is an illusion. There is a great storm building far to the East.
The Hun are coming for the last elves of Anatole and the Transkaukasos in numbers too great to comprehend. The evil wizard Æloðulf lives and when the hordes come they will be backed by the darkest magic of all.
While Philippos is dead the Makedónes are now led by Aléxandros, his even more dangerous son.
The elves are fewer and far weaker than they were when they faced the last barbarian horde. They will face war on multiple fronts leading up to the final desperate defence of Elgard.
This is a fight they cannot win.

Will this be the end of the elves and all that stand with them?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Neil Port
• Release date: Oct 12, 2014
• ISBN: 9798223413523

Neil Port

Neil has been a day dreamer all his life, writing unpublished stories from the age of nine. He retired from a medical career to write and play a little bad golf. When his wife, dog and family allow him, he loves staring out the window and disappearing into a world of swords, warriors, warrior women and elves or bashing away at his computer. A love of ancient history and civilizations has resulted in his fantasy series being set in exotic locations in ancient times.

Book preview

The Gathering Storm

Book 3

The Paladin Chronicles

2nd Ed

Neil Port

Copyright © Neil Port, Jan 2023

all rights reserved

1st Ed. Copyright 2014

Incorporating

'A Time for Peace' (the Gathering Storm)

' A time to gather stones together' (getting ready for war)

'A time for War'

And, 'The Last Elf Kingdom'

Ecclesiastes 3

For everything there is a season and a time to every purpose under the heaven:

With the death of Philippos, the Allies have a time for peace, but, unknown to most of them, this time will be limited. A cataclysmic storm is building in the East.

Contents

The Gathering Storm

Part 1 (of 4):  A Time for Peace

Chapter 1: Homecoming, a Distant War

Chapter 2: A Wounded Daughter, and Apollo

Chapter 3: A Crippled Warrior

Chapter 4: Chalkedon

Chapter 5: Engineers, and Strays

Chapter 6: A Coward

Chapter 7: Olympias, the Truth about Daimôns

Chapter 8: Vulnerable, Hurt and Angry

Chapter 9: A Young Gypsy File Leader … and Jólnir

Chapter 10: A Dress, a Mainades, and Dating

Chapter 11: An Officer's Ball

Chapter 12: A Dead Hand, and Io

Chapter 13: A Hostage, and Elif

Chapter 14:  Valley of the Dwarves

Chapter 15: Expectations

Chapter 16: A Ladies' War

Chapter 17: Brother Shafer, and the Desert Fortress

Chapter 18: Wedding, birthing and a Terrible Secret

Part 2 (of 4): ' A time to gather stones together'

Chapter 1: A Greek engineer and an Elf Corporal

Chapter 2: The Elf Queen

Chapter 3: The Last Great City of the Elves

Chapter 4: The Mirror, and More Terrible News

Chapter 5: The Kartvelebi

Chapter 6: The High Pass

Chapter 4: What a Greek Man (in Love) Can Do

Part 3 (of 4): A Time of War

Chapter 1: Entering the Desert

Chapter 2: Deeper into the Desert

Chapter 3: The Face of my Enemy

Chapter 4: The Taking of Karsh

Chapter 5:  A Visit, Hakeem's Hidden Secrets

Chapter 6: Sardeis, and a Young King

Chapter 7: Death of Aléxandros and Thēbai

Chapter 8: Granikos

Chapter 9: Losing, and Makedonía

Chapter 10: Aigai

Chapter 11: Emptiness

Chapter 12: Elena Waits

Part 4 (of 4): The Last Elf Kingdom

Chapter 1: The Beginning of the End

Chapter 2: The End

Chapter 3: The Aftermath

Excerpt

Book 4, The Assassin's Quest

Chapter 1: Two Journeys

Part 1 (of 4):  A Time for Peace

Chapter 1: Homecoming, a Distant War

In the darkness, two men thundered into Abydos at the head of their escort. One was a great elf lord and one a commander of the Shantawi. 

The men's horses were lathered and near spent. Hakeem was deep in Bithynia and only Héctor himself was able to find him. But by then it was fully three weeks since news of Philippos's death had reached Troia.

When they arrived in Abydos, the stables were all but deserted, all discipline had broken down. Surely the townsfolk could not be still celebrating?

Perhaps they could. This city, more than any other, had a sword hanging over it for more than a decade. Now it seemed the threat was removed, perhaps forever.

But Hakeem and Héctor were in no mood to celebrate.

They only wanted to change horses. There were not enough in the stables, so they left most of their escort behind. They would even have gone on alone, such was their haste. With little pause they were off again, cursing every delay.

This was bad.

This was very bad.

It was morning when the small party clattered up to the road that led to the citadel. Many of the servants and guardsmen rushed in expectation of a joyous return. One look at the faces of the pair and the words of congratulations died unspoken.

The Warlord 's face was like thunder!

While they breakfasted, a council of war was hurriedly called.

Helios was paying a visit of state to Troia, so the room contained most of the senior commanders and the royals including Elena, Seléne, King Helios, King Leandros and his son Karpos.

People were laughing and talking loudly and, when Hakeem and Héctor finally came in, they cheered. The war was over, they had won! Hakeem knelt before the kings and attempted a wan smile.

I'm sorry, Lords, that I could not be here earlier. I was badly delayed. I hope I'm not too late.

Helios smiled at him uncertainly. What was the matter with Hakeem?

Too late for what, my dear Hakeem? Philippos is dead! We have won.

The Makedóne campaign in Anatolē had ended. The empire of Philippos was collapsing under the weight of factional fighting and revolt. Why did Hakeem look so sour? It was said he had ridden all night without rest. Why did he look so angry, so tired and, well, so … frightened?

Leandros knew.

The old king had seen it all before. It was all too familiar to him.

They had given the ultimate responsibility for defence of Troia to Hakeem, Hakeem alone.  For moons, Hakeem alone bore the final responsibility. Their hopes, the impossible task, rested on him; he was under continuous attack from the town's people. Hakeem succeeded beyond what was possible and all knew the great burden of guilt and anguish he bore even in that great victory.

And then they gave him another impossible task. 

He had to face the unbeatable leader of an unbeatable army.

Again, he delivered.

He took a tiny force against Parmenion and forced the Makedóne campaign to a standstill. He captured a great fortune. The enemy lost the freedom of movement and their supplies were bled back to the allies. Eventually they were so weakened that the Prince of Bithynia had managed to make progress in pushing Parmenion back and regaining land and some small towns. All this was done with little loss of men.

But it was Hakeem, always Hakeem.

Hakeem personally led the men, Hakeem devised the strategy, Hakeem worried about a thousand and one details and Hakeem went deeper behind enemy lines more times and for longer than anyone else.

Hakeem's concern for his men, his concern for the villagers and common folk, even his concern for his enemy was legendary.

But it was also his great weakness.

Leandros reproached himself. He should have known, yet Hakeem had always seemed so strong. They had expected Hakeem to be stronger than any other, and now Leandros realised their shocking error.

There had been no choice, but they demanded more and more from this strong and generous man and Hakeem kept giving without complaint. Finally, what had been asked had been too much. 

He looked at Hakeem sadly. It was likely his young friend would never be the same again. It was likely that they had lost Hakeem, and now they must treat him gently.

Hakeem, my young friend, you must rest. You have done more than all thought possible. It is you that has saved us but now your task is over!

IT IS NOT! Hakeem shouted, hitting the table in front of him like a thunder clap.

He stood, shocked at himself. 

Forgive me, Lords, he mumbled and sank down into a chair and rested his head in his hands.

Now the other men in the room understood. They were witness to the ruin of what had been a great man. The elves: Seléne, Héctor and Elena merely waited, silent, impassive. Did they have so little understanding of human weakness?

It is not, Hakeem said softly, almost to himself.

Helios tried to soothe the young man whom he had mentored, and whom he loved.

"Of course we still need your help, but the greater task is done. Much has happened while you have been away. Philippos is dead. His son Aléxandros has taken over, but the great empire Philippos had created is about to go up in flames.

Makedonía is in chaos; Aléxandros has already managed to murder his cousin, his half-brother Amyntas, and his new half-brother.

"But he was just a baby! Argh!" Hakeem surged again to his feet.

Sit down, my friend; it grieves me to tell you the rest as I see the news affects you so. It gets worse, Helios said firmly and placed a hand on Hakeem's shoulder. Hakeem bowed his head and sank down again. He clutched at Helios's hand and held it for support.

He was only a baby.

Helios lowered his voice, trying to project some calm while he told the terrible tidings.

"Aléxandros is not his father; Philippos at least showed mercy to his family and Aléxandros also has that she-devil of a mother driving him. They say she had Kleopatra Eurydikē and her young daughter roasted alive and had her baby put to the sword. Aléxandros is now systematically killing all male members of Kleopatra's family to prevent reprisals.

Attalus, her uncle, is accused of plotting the murder of Philippos even though he has been in Bithynia with Parmenion all this time. It is always thus with Makedóne successions, I'm afraid. The country swims in blood.

All paused in silence to allow Hakeem time to absorb the terrible news.

Then Leandros took up the tale somewhat excitedly. "Aléxandros must not be allowed to succeed! He is even more ruthless and cruel than his father. All the Greek nations and beyond march to war.

"Demosthenes is doing what he does best. He is mobilising Athēnai and Thēbai to revolt. He is in contact with Attalus and Parmenion and maybe they too will turn against Aléxandros.

"Attalus still has support in Makedonía itself and Parmenion has already carved a small kingdom for himself in Bithynia. The army there is loyal to them. Parmenion is known as their best general and he could easily beat the inexperienced Aléxandros.

The tribes of Illyria and Thráki are mobilising to rebel. We are not only free of this threat, if we can play Parmenion off against Aléxandros we may be able to get rid of one or the other. We can either get Bithynia back or even join an expedition into Makedonía itself and you know how wealthy that has become!

Leandros was getting old but had not lost his fire!

Hakeem looked at the two kings and shook his head tiredly.

Please, my Kings, we must do neither of those things.

All the humans in the room were astounded. They looked at Hakeem in shock. Had he lost so much? This was a great chance! There was a growing murmur of dissent.

Héctor's voice cut through it all. Tell them, Hakeem.

His voice sounded like a judge passing a death sentence.

Do you trust me, Lords? Do all here trust me? Hakeem asked, looking around.

Every human in the room looked from Héctor and Hakeem in confusion. Elena and Seléne continued to sit, waiting, their expressions unreadable.

Of course, we do, Leandros and Helios said in unison and others added their murmured agreement. We just think you are a little overwrought.

If you trusted me, then you have all made a big mistake! Hakeem said sardonically. "For I am a fool. It is only now that l have realised how much of a fool I have been.

Philippos is dead, what do we get?

They looked at each other and Hakeem, totally perplexed.

A great opportunity, I thought? Leandros said.

Think back two moons and more ago. If you wanted to come with a great force to invade the Hellas, the Black Sea area or Thráki, or even come to Anatolē through Bithynia, what would happen?

Leandros went pale. Why, Philippos … he whispered harshly.

He didn't finish and suddenly sat back in shock, like a man who had aged from one breath to the next. Suddenly all in the room knew what it was, and they knew fear.

Hakeem had said the fight against Philippos was a prelude. They had forgotten.

How long … how long do we have? Helios asked softly.

Maybe three years, Hakeem replied, "but I think it will be less. Then we will face an invasion like unto the Aryan hordes, but we are far weaker now than we were then.

"I thought I was clever. Maybe, I even thought I was very clever.

"I was wrong.

"I don't know how long the Turks have been playing this game. It feels that we have been manipulated for an impossibly long time. Perhaps that's true, or we ourselves have been playing into their hands.

"The elves are united, East and West, but what about us humans? The war between Troia and Aiolía seriously weakened Troia. My Lord Leandros, you led the finest army in this region, bar none, if I may say so. With the greatest respect for former enemies who are now great friends, where is it now? The strongest point we had here in Anatolē is now one of our weakest.

"And where are the Sparte, Athēnai or mighty Thēbai? Where are their armies? The Hellas have long been protected to the north, if one can use such a term, by savage and warlike tribes. Where are the Illyroi, the Molossians, the Thráki and the Tribulans?

"Why, Philippos has seen to them all. Philippos even crossed the Istros (Danube) and killed the Skythian king, Areas!

"And what happened to the colonies around the Black Sea and their allies? Why, Philippos again. And what happened to the dozens of colonies in Makedonía and Thráki?

"Philippos raised thirty-one towns and cities in Chalkidiki (southern Makedónian peninsula) alone. He sold their populations into slavery and resettled just a small few with Makedónes.

"So what mighty army are we left with in the end? ... The Makedónes! Just the Makedónes, the only remaining force anywhere near strong enough to mount a serious defence and only then, I suspect, if we were all solidly behind them.

"Even for their unstoppable army, even with Philippos or Parmenion at the head, it would be a difficult task, even if we all joined with them.

"And what did the enemy do to defeat this mighty Makedóne force even before they marched against them? Well, I'll tell you, they killed a single man.

I fear the Makedónes are finished as a credible threat. It would be too much to expect that Philippos's son, even if he were his father's equal, could in two years do what took Philippos twenty.

Leandros looked as if he was going to say something but Hakeem continued

"Perhaps the situation Aléxandros faces is not as bad as what his father faced, but if he takes a single mis-step it will be. And when the invaders arrive, will we be united and strong or will we be exhausted from fighting one amongst the other? Just guess which it will be.

A very great opportunity, yes, but for our enemies.

A hush had fallen over the men in the room.

Gone was the laughter.

Gone were the congratulations. Now they looked one to the other, their faces showed fear.

Do you think you can defeat these Hun?

I do not, Hakeem admitted.

Are there really that many? one of Helios's generals asked.

Héctor answered for Hakeem. "Their numbers are like that of the locust. This is like nothing you have ever faced before. Think of an army limited only by the ability of the land to sustain it; an army which picks the country clean; an army that must conquer and take all there is to take, just to sustain itself.

"We count armies by the thousands and huge armies by tens of thousands. Philippos at his height could field an army of sixty thousand if he emptied all his garrisons. If he took all these and marched out to meet what will come here, they would outnumber him two, or even three of their men to every one of his, and that will only be their first assault.

"But do not think that such large numbers means their army is inferior. Man for man, in their tactics and in the cleverness of their leaders, they are at least our match and, in some ways, our better. Each and every warrior learns to ride, to draw a bow and to fight in war from the time they first walk. A normal infantry cannot stand against their mounted archers and they are clever, treacherously clever. If a leader fails them, they simply kill him and choose another. And they are driven here by a great famine.

Now do you understand? Héctor raised his clear elfin voice to a shout. They will wash over what we have here, now, like a wave crashes over a child's castle made of sand!

There was a long silence.

I don't think my uncle deliberately understated what we face, Elena added softly.

They looked at her with horrified disbelief.

"When he said 'here', he only referred to eastern Anatolē and the Hellas. Even more will come against Elgard, Kappadokia and even Karsh. So, we will each be asked to stand alone.

"In the hot lands, far to the south and the east, there are great storms as strong as an angry God. Their winds fling men, beasts, trees and even houses through the air. Sometimes just before such a storm comes there is a strange hush.

It is an illusion of peace. And that is what we will have now, a time of peace but it will only be an illusion, a breath before the great onslaught.

No one had anything to say, what could be said to that?

Hakeem waited …

They saw him waiting and turned to him … and still he waited.

Then he gave them a humourless smile.

"We could, if you wish, surrender. They may be generous enough to let us live, depending on their mood. If condemning us to the greatest famine since the last great horde could be described as generous.

"I do have a plan but we will lose much of what we presently think of as dear to us.

"We fight this time not for our kingdoms or our cities: they can be rebuilt.

"We fight not for our farms or our cattle: they can be replaced.

"We do not even fight for our own lives. We fight for our very survival as a people.

Do not speak of this to your people, my Lord Leandros. They have suffered too long from war. They need this time to celebrate and be glad. If you are all with me, we must concentrate first on recovering and becoming strong. He paused and looked around.

And remember, we don't have much time.

Helios looked at Leandros, who nodded. We will do as you say, Hakeem. For the moment get some rest, you look at the point of collapse. Then we will discuss what we have to do.

Now they knew. This was an illusion of peace.

In the East a terrible storm was gathering.

Nothing like it had been seen for a thousand years.

* * *

The lands of the Sakā

It was bitterly cold in the desert. The breath of men and horses steamed in the air.

Not long, my Shah, Fro-hakafra his Spalahora (senior commander) said as he tried to squint into the distance for the first sign of their enemy. Our scouts have spotted a large force coming this way.

Then we will have them! Afrīḡ replied, hungrily.

Afrīḡ was the Šâh (Shah) of Xvairizem, the greatest of the three great Sakā Kingdoms.

Like his father before him, he was a great warrior-king.

Like his father before him, he maintained the largest and finest fighting force in the region and, like his father before him, he chose the best men for his elite units. They were well paid, and trained, and had the best equipment.

These were the middle desert lands of central Asia. To the south and to the east of them were vast tracks of mountains they called the Himalayas (meaning 'the dwelling place of snow') and these mountains starved the Sakā lands of rain, but they also gave them a wondrous gift: mighty rivers born in the mountains out of ice, snow and rain.

This gave them oases: rich and fertile river valleys and wealthy trade routes joining east and west.

And so they had become rich.

They were surrounded by many enemies that would take their wealth (if they could), but the Sakā warriors were famous for good reason, and the most famous of all were from Xvairizem. Local petty kings paid Afrīḡ tribute and he, like his father, had taken the title Šāhanšāh (Shah of other Shahs). He was a proud ruler of a proud kingdom.

But nothing had prepared him or his men for what they now faced.

The Hun had poured over the mountains in numbers that were impossible to believe. They had fallen on Sogdiane in the Fergana valley and the Yakhsha Arta (Jaxartes River) like an army of wolves savaging a flock of lambs. The rivers ran with blood, cities and towns were burned to the ground. Bodies were piled high in the fields.

Then the enemy split into two and they came at Marakanda (Samarkand) from two sides.

After the terrible news from the Fergana, terror gripped the people. Citizens panicked; soldiers fled their posts. Cities and towns surrendered without even a fight, adding to the strength of the enemy.

Afrīḡ rushed to their aide but when Sogdiane resistance collapsed he was forced to fight his way out and, as he was retreating, he received disastrous news. Another huge army had appeared over the mountains, attacking Bactria.

With three great armies, each of 7 tumen (seventy thousand warriors), coming at them from different directions, it was impossible for the allies to mount an organised response. Not knowing where they would strike next, the other two kingdoms divided up their armies and sent them to reinforce their garrisons.

It was a disastrous strategy.

With no force large enough to oppose them, the enemy could attack them in small pieces wherever they willed, and the new siege weapons from the Chin made short work of mud brick and even stone fortifications were not immune.

The destruction was terrible.

And now one of these armies was approaching Xvairizem.  Afrīḡ had raised the largest army that his land had ever seen, but he wouldn't be wasting it on garrisons. He planned to meet the Hun here. He would make a stand ... here, near the entrance to his kingdom. 

Afrīḡ was an angry man. What these barbarous vermin were doing to his allies and friends ate at his heart. Until now, he could do nothing. Now, maybe, just maybe, the Hun had made a mistake. If they sent their armies at him one at a time, he could fight them two of his men to one of theirs, and he might just defeat them.

As he looked out across the desert it looked empty, endless wastes of grey and yellow sand dotted with the black saxaul shrubs. It was called the Kara Kum (the land of the black sands). It had its yellow sand dunes and rocky outcrops in the higher parts but it was named for the black soil in the low lands which had come from rivers none of which had run in human memory.

It was a punishing place, with blistering summers and frigid winters and yet he loved it with all his heart. He loved its people. If need be, he would die defending them.

The royal chariot he waited in was magnificent: it had a gilded carving of his family crest (the royal lion carrying a sword) and it was painted with the fire and stars of Mazdayasna (Zoroastrianism). It was superbly built, with two great axles to carry it over the rough ground.  It could be pulled by its team of eight large horses at great speed as if in a race. It had a box to protect the heavily armoured driver and a protected platform for Afrīḡ to survey the field or signal his commanders. It had two each of spearmen and archers that rode in it and a mounted guard to follow it.

It was magnificent ... and it was completely useless for fighting the Hun.

It was impossible to turn at any speed and all the enemy had to do was kill one of the horses. It was a mobile command post, nothing more.

Afrīḡ and Fro-hakafra, his senior commander who waited nearby, wore the best quality chain and scale mail. Grooms also held armoured mounts and cavalry lances. When the time came, if the time came, he would mount his horse and join the fight.

It would not be the first time. He would fight as a knight, and the knights were the pride of the Sakā army.  Many times, they had turned the tide for his people. The Greeks called them Kataphraktoi meaning 'fully covered', or less polite terms for the heavy armour in the oppressive heat of the summer.

The armour rendered the Hun arrows ineffective (except at point blank range). If they stayed in formation, where the treacherous enemy couldn't knock them from their mounts, lasso them or shoot their mounts, then the flighty Hun skirmishers had little taste for facing them.

On the hill behind him, he had fully five thousand of his knights waiting. They were a glorious sight, heavy coats of mail and polished cuirasses gleaming in the sun. 

The site of his stand had been chosen with care.  He waited on a large ridge that dominated the whole field. His archers were arranged in several rows behind a row of spearmen with their tall shields almost the height of a man.

It was the Sakā way.

Protected by the spear men, it allowed them to have archers in a forward position during the battle allowing them to send a lethal hail of arrows early in the enemies' approach. The Hun cavalry archers may be more mobile but they could not match the speed and power of his archers on foot, many trained by Skythoi.

As well as 50,000 archers, he had an equal number of spearmen and another 18,000 light cavalry. He was reinforced by 40,000 displaced troops from his allies, all of them thirsting for vengeance.

Afrīḡ's armour was heavy but he was careful not to show discomfort. A boy came to offer him water and ephedra, the stimulant. He took the water gratefully but shook his head irritably at the thought of ephedra. Though it was winter, ephedra could kill a warrior as easily as a spear, if he got overheated in battle.

He glanced at his nearby aide. Why was it taking so long? He resisted the urge to ask. The aide knew no more than him. His scouts had been having trouble getting close to the Huns due to their mounted bowmen but from what they could see at a distance the enemy was moving slowly.

That had to be due to Chin infantry making up their numbers – good!

It was the mobility of the horse archers that made them impossible to fight with armies based on infantry.

The wind blew a heavy cloud of sand stinging into his face. He blinked to clear it and he tasted it, gritty in his mouth; a familiar taste. Near the horizon, he could finally see a faint cloud of dust. At last!

Great King! Dahâka, one of his generals, pointed.  Here they come!

Afrīḡ nodded. The size of the dust cloud as it approached was impressive; they faced a large force. It was both bigger and slower than he had expected.

The enemy was making straight for him – also good. He had worried that they might avoid a direct fight and use the speed of their approach to circle around him, to pillage his land. It was a Hun trick when faced with infantry to get the infantry to try to chase them till it was exhausted and disorganised ... and drawn out, and then they attacked.

This time, they were sending their infantry first. That was curious, more a Sakā tactic.

"Everyone, take your places now. Warn the rear-guard that I expect the enemy cavalry to circle and attack our rear. Whatever they do, they are not to give chase even if the enemy seems to break and run.

If they hang back to shoot their arrows, we are to rely on our earth works and our own archers and shields. He muttered to Fro-hakafra, They must handle them! It is vital we stay close together and concentrate on the front. The Hun cavalry had mainly bowmen but a few carried spears and lances for fleeing infantry, and they all had lassos.

Same for the front, I don't want my men to charge unless I order it, and then only for a distance of hundred chebel. No more. Even if the enemy seem in disarray.

It had been drilled and drilled into his troops. He would not make the mistakes others had made. It would be difficult, but his troops were well trained, he hoped the remnants of the allied troops would keep their heads.

The Chin infantry specialised in armoured pike-men and cross bows. Cross bows were powerful and accurate but slow and the chin archers tended to hang further back than the Sakā archers. The Sakā infantry were more lightly armoured than the Chin, but they made up for this by their tower shields, tall and strong.

He planned to shower their infantry with his own arrows well before they could get near enough to engage. He could scatter any Hun cavalry with his Kataphraktoi and would dominate the field.

The Hun were conquering all they came against. It was time to teach these savages about what the Sakā could do!

He shaded his eyes to try to study the enemy now they were getting closer. They didn't seem so formidable. Their order was ragged and he couldn't see much armour, shields or weapons. Half of them seemed small for warriors. Was Mòdú Chányú running out of men?

He strained his eyes.

Something didn't seem right...

Then he gasped in horror.

What animals are these? Frachya, the captain of his Anûsiya (royal guard), cried out in agony.

What they thought was the van guard of the enemy army was ragged, hollow-eyed men, women and children. Their own villagers with their arms bound behind their backs.

The Hun had been herding them like cattle with whips and spears. Now they were driving them faster and faster. The peasants began running in a panic, many falling only to be trampled by those that followed. The enemy archers would be hidden in their midst.

If Afrīḡ's men sent a volley they would achieve little, mostly wasting arrows on their own villagers, yet the Huns could fire back into the crowded ranks of his own men. It would be an uneven exchange and the horror of shooting their own people was designed to demoralise his defenders.

It had almost unmanned him already.

My King, what can we do? Azata, his young aide, looked ill.

For a moment, Afrīḡ was unable to form the words, overcome with disgust and anger.

There is no choice, he whispered heavily and raised his voice. Tell the archers to aim for the front line.

He turned his face expressionless to one of the men by his side.  Syavash was a very special young captain, one of the Shah's best. He had a small handpicked group of men waiting. Lightly armoured, they could travel swiftly. They looked ill-sorted but they were used to operating well into enemy territory. They were very tough, and extremely loyal, and had been chosen for one thing alone.

Syavash, leave us. You know what to do!

My Lord? Syavash couldn't believe the Shah's order.

The battle hadn't even been joined!

As he hesitated, a volley of arrows hit the peasants. The screams were terrible. The Hun amongst them were working like daimôns in a fury, lifting peasants up and pushing them to the front and shoving bodies aside. The helpless peasant army picked itself up and came on. The Hun fired back and their soldiers were screaming and cursing as they were hit.

Go now, Syavash, the Shah said heavily. Take my sons to safety.

Take my sons to safety!

Afrīḡ the Warrior King, the best of all the Sakā kings, the one who had the greatest army in the history of his land believed he was going to lose.

But, for Syavash, if Xvairizem was not safe, where was?

As Syavash turned to leave he could hear the screams of terror and pain from the peasants in the distance.

Again! Afrīḡ shouted.

The Great Shah of Xvairizem was living inside a nightmare from which he could not wake.

He was about to be overwhelmed by an army made from his own unarmed people, the people he loved and was sworn to defend.

Again! It was almost a sob. Ready javelins and fire when in range!

* * *

Troia, Leandros and Helios

It was early in the afternoon and Leandros and Helios were standing on the balcony staring gloomily over the Aegean Sea.

Gone was the jubilant mood of the morning.

Do you really think the Hun will come here? Helios asked.

Leandros sighed. It makes no sense. They are so far away … but yes. I think, yes, they will come. He paused for a moment, I don't know why, perhaps I have been around Hakeem too long. The elves have no doubt.

They turned to see Hakeem and Elena were walking towards them.

The two kings stared at the pair in disbelief.

The Warlord and the Elf Queen were strolling along arm in arm, smiling and chatting to each other. Wasn't this the same Hakeem and Elena who only hours earlier had told them the world was coming to an end?

Good afternoon, great Lords! Hakeem greeted them enthusiastically.

It might have been a good afternoon if you didn't have to spoil things this morning, Leandros replied sourly. Weren't you the one who came close to giving me the apoplexy?  But why worry? We have at least two years before we are overrun, all of us murdered and our kingdoms burnt to the ground.

Yes, plenty of time! Hakeem agreed heartily.

If you have found something to be happy about, my friend, Helios said with a sardonic smile. I would like to know what it is. You appear like a ghost at a wedding feast.; you spoil our mood, and now you have the effrontery to look cheerful.

A sleep certainly helped me, Hakeem replied, hugging his beautiful wife and kissing her on the cheek. Isn't it such a wonderful, clear day for autumn? There is so much beauty in the world.

There is so much madness in you, my young friend, is what I think. Leandros grinned, cheered despite himself. It was comforting to have Hakeem around and his almost unquenchable optimism.

I must say, great Lord. I am impressed with what you have managed to achieve here.

Leandros felt a great surge of pride and then he almost choked over the idiocy of it all. It was his kingdom after all. He wasn't the chancellor and Hakeem the returning king.

But, yes, what had been achieved was indeed remarkable.

Before the recent wars Troia was on its knees. A great many of its most famous commercial houses had been ruined, homes and shops closed, surrounding villages impoverished, its coffers empty and its army just a shadow of what it was.

Hakeem, when they were facing invasion from two great powers, had insisted that they were not to raise the biggest army they could afford. The ongoing cost of supporting it would have forced them to move out to fight their enemies. He defeated the Athēnai, with little loss of men, and managed to recruit a large part of the survivors. He led one, and then several, guerrilla forces into Bithynia and played havoc with the Makedóne lines of supply, bleeding the Makedónes of supplies and plunder and sending it back to Troia. 

They had diverted all the extra funds into settling refugees, training their Athenian recruits and strengthening the Troad.

They managed to open a channel to sell their wheat and produce in the Hellas and now, after fighting two campaigns against what had seemed impossible odds, and having their goods blockaded, Troia was stronger and more prosperous than before. It was not what it once was, no, but the recovery was noticeable.

The harbour was full of ships, people were moving back into the city, the countryside was regaining an air of prosperity and the Troian army, from a pathetic remnant, had swelled to a viable force.

Hakeem in his mad dash to the great city had observed signs of recovery everywhere. The villages looked prosperous, the people well fed and the land well tended. There was a pleasing number of livestock. There was a lot of commercial traffic: a good number of donkey-carts, wagons and even horsemen. The travellers on the road seemed consumed by their own affairs despite a Makedóne army supposedly on their doorstep.

Leandros knew that much of this was due to Apollo.

Apollo had been a successful merchant and a patriot, but one of their most dangerous critics before the Athenian siege. Leandros had wanted to execute him but Hakeem insisted he be given a key position in charge of the recovery.

Leandros could hardly refuse Hakeem after the miracle he had achieved, but it had provoked a terrible argument, the only real argument they ever had.

Hakeem was right, the man was a magician.

What is the next step, do you think, Hakeem? Helios asked his senior commander.

For the moment, let the people celebrate. It will do them good. They need to heal after the dark times they have suffered.

What about our celebrations and our dark times? Leandros asked petulantly.

Hakeem actually laughed.

"I'm sorry, great Lords, it is one of the privileges of rank. Elena and the elves decided to wait till I could return to explain it to you. At least you had that little time to celebrate.

I must say though, my Lords, I feel better having told you. It's not true, of course, but sometimes it feels like I have to carry all this on my own. He sighed.

Well, thank you! Helios laughed. I'm glad you feel better! For some reason, Leandros and I haven't been feeling any better. How can you be so cheerful?

I am a Shayvist, Elena is an elf. If it is our fate to die, it won't help to worry about it, will it now?

There's that, Helios said with a straight face. I might die, so why worry? You're making me feel better already.

Also, Elena and I haven't seen each other in far too long. Hakeem paused. With your permission, Lords, I would like to send much of our additional forces home. I think with the addition of the Athēnai, the Troian forces are more than enough to contain the remaining remainder Makedóne threat.

I don't suppose I can convince you to move on Parmenion while we are all here? Leandros asked a little wistfully.

Hakeem laughed again. It may come to that, Great King, but if he stays where he is and doesn't cause us too much trouble, the answer is no. I have no intention of removing a well-trained army under a clever commander who decides to fortify a camp between me and whatever invasion force is coming.

How do you expect me to explain this to the Bithynian prince and our Lydian allies? Leandros asked plaintively.

Convincingly, I hope, Hakeem replied. If you need me, I should be able to help before I leave.

Leave? You're leaving?

"With the permission of both of you, of course.

I need to go home. You have heard what happened in Sogdiane and Bactria? Any cities that did not surrender have been razed and their populations slaughtered. The Hun have defeated huge armies: the Chin, the Skythians, the Yuezhi and now the Sakā … all they have turned their attention to.

Central Asia, that place has a fort every few miles! Helios said in shock.

Some are stone but a lot is mud brick, Leandros said grimly.  The Hun have brought Chin engineers and even the stone forts cannot stand forever against them. It seems so far away. Afrīḡ, the Shah of Xvairizem, can mobilise a huge army. Maybe he will stop them. There are still many cities and armies between us and the Hun. Surely someone can.

Not as many as you think, Hakeem said softly, looking out over the harbour. "And there is a terrible drought, worse than in anyone's memory. It is the time of the Aryan all over again. The war has strangled trade. People from the countryside are starving, so bandits attack the trading caravans. Then those in the city and country that rely on trade are ruined, and their workers destitute.

"The Hun have warriors from all the lands they have conquered and they are sitting on a mountain of gold with the prospect of even greater plunder. For many, joining the Hun is the only hope they have of a better life. So, the Hun have no problem finding men and paying them.

"If they take Xvairizem they control the crucial trade routes through central Asia. In the East, they will control from the southern shores of the Kaspian Sea to the Aral Sea. They cannot continue south unless they are ready to face the Persikόs. It is the greatest Empire the world has ever seen

"But I think they will go north and cross the Ra (Volga), first," Hakeem said.

The Skythians there were once numerous and united, now they would be hard pressed to stop them. Then they can then threaten the elves from the north or continue along the Steppe north of the Black Sea as far as the Thráki where they can threated Anatole or the Hellas. If they get far enough to try that, I hope the Makedónes have something suitably violent to say about it.

That's still a lot of armies and fortified cities between them and us, Helios said. If they are strong enough to come here, how could we possibly hope to stop them?

They can't take on the elves and us together, Leandros exclaimed.

Hakeem smiled a little sadly at his old friend.

You don't agree, do you? Helios whispered.

There are not enough elves. They cannot face these sorts of numbers without our help.

If they wish to hit the elves, they will find a way to draw us off. Leandros said.

You see the problem, Hakeem said. "They can come at us from more than one direction at once. In fact, they have to. With the size of their armies, they can't supply them if they put them all together. But if they conquered the Persikόs, they could supply a huge army."

You can't be serious! The Persian empire, you can't be serious! Helios was in disbelief.

It would be awkward, Hakeem admitted. With respect, my Lord Helios, perhaps you don't understand the scale of what we are facing.

Do you really think they will come here? Leandros asked, looking grim.

Yes, I do. I wish I knew what we have that they want so badly. Echoing what Leandros had said earlier. It is something to do with the Elves, but I just don't understand what it is. The Western Elves don't even have cities anymore.

Well, let's hope Xvairizem can stop them, Helios said glumly. 

Then he shrugged. Who will I appoint  in your absence? he asked.

If you ask me, my King, I would suggest Neros the Athenian. He is my sworn man and he is clever, and a good leader, Hakeem replied.

Helios looked thoughtful. I'll think on that, you might be right.  But you still haven't explained to me why you want to go home.

Hakeem didn't reply immediately but a look of pain passed across his face. He stood for a while looking out over the sea.

The Hun will come there, he said softly.

How? Why? Helios asked, puzzled.

Hakeem's homeland was protected by Mesopotamia to the north and to the east. To the west it is protected by Khanaan. All of that was controlled by the formidable Persian Empire.

Outside the irrigated areas it is arid and difficult to move over, but it would simply not be possible to move a large force through there without the Persikόs finding out.

They have powerful sorcerers advising them. As to why, it will weaken you badly to lose me and the Shantawi. It will also give them a base for an attack west to Khanaan and maybe even down to Aígyptos or north up to Kappadokia, Hakeem replied. As to how—"

If I was in their position, I would smuggle smaller groups and assemble them on the border. It's the last thing we would expect, Leandros said for him.

Hakeem nodded. "They cannot send a large force into the desert. The wells and smaller springs would dry up if you tried to water a large army of men and horses, but even a small army for the Hun would not be a small army for the Shantawi. Karsh will be attacked. I just don't know when."

You can't defend Karsh, Elena said softly.

Hakeem nodded sourly.

What's the problem? Leandros and Helios asked in unison.

Elena's voice became a whisper as she too looked out to the ocean, her mind deep in memory. "Karsh is beautiful. It is built in a great wadi (valley). Where the course of the wadi descends, they have built a dam to create an artificial lake. That's what gives water pressure to the city via its aqueducts. The city is famous for its fountains and gardens and bath houses, but it is that seals its fate.

Even if it didn't, there are a dozen other problems with Karsh's defences. The fortifications are mud brick and completely obsolete but even with stronger walls, Karsh cannot be saved.

The two Kings looked at Elena and Hakeem in dismay.

Hakeem was looking in the distance and spoke softly. South and east are our two greatest weaknesses: Karsh and Kappadokia, if they can get there. Kappadokia has a lot of open plains and its settlements have been repeatedly raided by the Kimmerioi and Skythians until it is almost empty.

He sighed. "Even before they moved into Central Asia, the Huns had an interest in the elves. It might be something to do with the prophecy but they have prophecies of their own."

What can you do about Karsh? Leandros asked.

Now why do you think I have a plan to do something about Karsh? Hakeem gave them a mysterious smile as he looked into the far distance across the harbour.

Chapter 2: A Wounded Daughter, and Apollo

Long had the people of Troia lived under shadow.

They needed to laugh and be glad. People danced and they sang, they feasted and they drank wine, they had festivals and they gave sacrifices to their gods. Men and women courted and fell in love, marriages were arranged, and children were conceived. But there was one person they knew in Troia who had no cause to celebrate.

Hakeem had seen her earlier and now he and Elena returned that same afternoon for a special meeting that had long been expected. They found their daughter sitting, hunched miserably on her bed, waiting for them. The shutters were closed, the room was in shadow.

Her left hand was in a brown leather glove and without realising it, she was rhythmically kneading it.

When she was brought back from the catacombs Hakeem had seen her then, but he couldn't help her paralysed hand. He left her to Elena and her elves and returned to the campaign in Bithynia. He promised he would return to try again.

Now was that time.

When Jacinta was hit by the daimôn blast in the catacombs below the ruins of Elvish Troia and then engulfed in daimôn fire there should have been little left to bury.

She was protected by the book she carried in the pouch at her front but she was still badly injured. Worse, she had absorbed daimôn substance and the book's protection spell began to attack her.

She was dying. But somehow, she managed to stand and throw the javelin that destroyed the daimôn. Then, with the last of her strength spent, she collapsed.

It had required the combined magic of the elf witch, Maerwen, and the guardian of the book, Silver, to save her life.  But they hadn't managed to save her left hand, the one which was holding her peltastae shield.

She had forced herself to return the book to the catacombs, almost having to be carried back there and needing the magical help of Silver to loan her strength.

That, and the trip back from the Troad, had taken too much out of her. It had left her very frail. She could hardly keep awake and she thought she would never feel warm again. She could only move with painful slowness and the slightest exertion brought her to the brink of collapse.

Paladins healed well and Jacinta had learnt to heal herself but at first she could do little in her weakened state. Now her body was beginning to recover but no matter what she did, her hand never had. She knew Hakeem couldn't help her, but she had to let him try.

When Hakeem entered, he sat on her left and, for a long time, simply held her in his arms. Jacinta rested her head on his shoulder, borrowing his strength. Her mother sat on the other side, arm on her shoulder and holding her good hand.

Outside a woman laughed. A child yelled excitedly, playing some game. A dog barked.

It carried into the silence of the room.

Jacinta, can I see your hand? Hakeem asked softly.

Jacinta listlessly pulled at her glove. With her hand uncovered, she averted her head. Her hand was black with a sickly green tinge, dry and dead looking. Faint sparkles could be seen moving across it in the shadow of the room. 

Does it still hurt? Hakeem asked.

Jacinta nodded, glancing at her hand in shame and disgust.

I still feel pain through all my body though it is slowly getting better. The pain in my hand is the worst. On a cold day it aches and aches, deep down inside. But I can't feel any touch on my hand and I can't hurt it any more in any way that I can find.

She put her hand on her lap and shook her right hand free of her mother. Pulling her belt knife out, she jabbed down as hard as she could on the palm of her crippled hand. It made a dull sound, but there was no effect on the hand.

Don't hurt it, Hakeem warned her. I doubt it will heal if you manage to cause it damage.

Jacinta snorted in disgust. If anything hurts it, Father, I don't know what ... but you're right. I guess I hate it. It doesn't seem part of me anymore.

Hakeem looked at her hand for a while, thoughtfully. Tell me again what happened? he asked.

I remember little more than what I have been told. Jacinta shook her head. "The daimôn had got behind us and I stood to fight it. The others were telling me to run but it wasn't bravery or anything like that. What else was I going to do? My mother and friends were there.

"I hit it once with my first javelin but it just burnt up and then I remember it raised its hand towards me. The world exploded all around me and I was in an ocean of pain.  I didn't know there could be so much pain in the world.

"I also felt a burning hatred and ... a hunger. Whether this was mine or the daimôn's I don't know. I don't know how I ever got to my feet to throw the second javelin. I felt a weariness beyond all experience. It felt like a mountain was sitting on top of me and I could hardly think.

After that, I remember nothing. I woke and couldn't move at first. It was terrifying. I thought I would be completely paralysed ... and I felt cold, cold to my very soul.

Then Jacinta heard her mother start speaking in the soft tones of an elf. She had heard the story before, but it was not easy to hear it, even now ... even here.

Daniel had connected to his previous life and was overcome with guilt. When he came out of it, he led us into the catacombs to search for the book, Elena started. "It took us a while to find the door but it was sealed with magic. There was something in the levels below us, something unwholesome and the use of magic had alerted it.

When it came for us, it was a great fire daimôn. There was nothing we could do against it. Even Ǽlward's magic didn't affect it for long. Elena got a distant, anguished look. Daniel said to flee. He was going to stay behind. I don't know if he was Daniel or Ǽlward at the time, but it was one of the bravest things I have ever seen, soon to be surpassed, of course, by our daughter here. She smiled and shook her head as tears came to her eyes.

We yelled at her to flee but she stood her ground. She threw her first javelin but it had little effect, more than the arrows though. Then the Daimôn unleashed a blast of force and fire at her. Her body was flung like a child's toy to hit the rock wall, hard and high up, and then it was bathed in fire. I s-saw it d-drop.

Tears were running freely down Elena's cheeks now and her voice became harsh and broken. Jacinta took her mother's hand and kissed it. "My heart stopped. I ran at the daimôn, crazed with grief, but I couldn't get near it due to its heat.

"There was no hope. We were going to die in that place and that thing was going to be released into the world. Then we saw something moving on the burning floor. Daniel thought the daimôn had re-animated Jacinta's corpse; it was a horrible thought.

But the daimôn did not have that sort of power. Jacinta had been saved by the book, but what had been done to her? Her whole body was black and covered by strange sparkling lights. Daniel got her to touch her javelins to the book. How she managed to throw a javelin in that state, I'll never know.

She grabbed Jacinta to her, hugging her, sobbing. She had to pause before she could continue.

"The javelin carried the spell from the book. It spread through the daimôn and destroyed it. Jacinta had absorbed some daimôn substance from the blast, especially in her hand and then she absorbed far more when she destroyed the daimôn. Apparently that's what happens.

"According to Silver, the daimôn substance itself is not dangerous, but that blast of energy was enough to kill her many times over. Then the book that had protected her, attacked her.

Silver strengthened the protection spell but Jacinta was d-dying. Somehow she convinced the book's anti-daimôn spell that Jacinta wasn't a daimôn, and not to attack her.

So the fire and daimôn blast, daimôn energy and two great spells on top of any other damage. Hakeem sighed.

Elena nodded, defeated.

Can you move it? he asked gently.

Jacinta shook her head.

Can I see if I can help? Hakeem asked.

Jacinta shrugged and held out her hand, looking away.

Hakeem placed his hand on her shoulder. He remained immobile for a while, eyes closed, hardly breathing, his face beaded with sweat. Jacinta felt him tense and then felt a great surge of power. Tears came to her eyes as she felt her father's love for her.

Then he slumped.

Sorry, honey. He shook his head. I can't even sense it. It's as if it's not even there.

Jacinta felt unaccountably better. She had no doubt her parents loved her. She wanted to reassure them. Thanks, Father, I want to rest now. I know you tried.

Do you want me to stay for a while? Elena sounded uncertain.

No, Mother. Jacinta put her arms around her and kissed her. I'll be all right, maybe I'll sleep.

She just wanted them to leave.

As soon as they had, she checked that they were gone and lay on her bed, carefully placing her face amongst the pillows, hugging them to her face.

It was then that the Jacinta who was mentioned in prophecy, the Jacinta who had killed a daimôn and the Jacinta who fought the pirates screamed. She released a howl of animal rage and loss, her lungs straining and her body rigid with agony, and then she broke down into sobbing and shuddering.

It lasted a long while.

In just over two moons she would be fourteen.

* * *

Apollo

It wasn't till the fourth day after his arrival that Hakeem was able to get out to visit Apollo. Apollo would have come to the palace, but Hakeem wanted the chance to get out into the city and walk around.

When he arrived, Apollo's house seemed in an uproar. There was a great crowd of servants, factors and merchants, all coming and going and everyone talking at once. He was led to a waiting room by one of the many staff but was hardly seated before a young man burst in.

Lord Hakeem! Aison greeted him excitedly. I'm sorry, Grandfather's not here but you didn't say when you would come. He's meeting with some traders from Tyros and is due back soon.

Tyros? It was part of the Persian Empire now. The Phoiníkē (Phoenicians) were great traders and rivals to the Greeks, they still were.

What are they doing here?

Well, I'd best let Grandfather explain. He's using private merchant fleets to get around the blockade of the Black Sea, but of course it's really our fleet. I've never seen Grandfather so happy, though he sold most of his businesses so he could do this work.

Hakeem thought of Parmenion's blockade, then he snapped back to the present.

You two are miracle workers.  And talking about news, I hear congratulations are in order. You are a father.

Penelope's wonderful. Aison beamed. She can lift her head and she is always so excited to see me or her great-grandfather. Psykhe and I are hoping to have another as soon as possible.

A fleeting look of pain passed over