Sons Of Tashbaan

Tarkaan

Tarkaan

New member
Having been busy with my affairs, I have permitted my representative in your world to cobble together a tale of my adventures. I am displeased that he is unable to use the high Calormen style to render it and am not entirely in agreement with his presentation of events but nevertheless, as it will never be seen, thank Tash, by any other Calormen I have allowed him to post it up.

If you wish to read my journal beforehand, it will provide some background information:
http://www.narniafans.com/forum/showthread.php?t=26320

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Sons Of Tashbaan

Prologue

A century ago, a foreign diplomat who spent time at the Calormen court later wrote that the experience was comparable to being sealed in a sarcophagus with a thousand vipers. His subsequent death at the hands of unseen assassins was not a judgement on the veracity of that observation, rather it was born of a creed which permits no sleight to go unpunished. This infamous quote is still recalled when young high born Calormens are drawn into the circle of the court.

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The night had barely ended in the dark, empty streets leading down to the southern gate when the clatter of horses hoofs broke the silence. If any slumbering beggars, half-invisible in the deep shadows lining the way, had bothered to look up they may have just been able to discern twenty four riders with short curved bows and arrows stowed in quivers on their saddles.

But this was Tashbaan, eternal city of the mighty Tisroc - descended in blood-line back to the great god Tash himself - and a beggar would be wise to avoid any overt display of curiosity. To know one’s place is to save one’s neck, as the poets have said.

“Move aside dog!” The harsh crack of a whip, some scurrying in the darkness and the riders passed. Turbaned soldiers bearing torches stood watch at the gate. Their captain stepped forward. “Halt, who bids to pass? Lances lowered at the ready. “Saleyman Asroc Tarkaan, captain of the Aan-Agari demands to pass in accordance with the command of the Tisroc, may he live for ever”.

Formality thus satisfied, keys clattered, timbers and hinges groaned and the mighty southern gates slowly swung open. As the riders passed out onto the bridge beyond, the first rays of dawn set the eastern horizon in flame, casting a blood-red glow along the river and upon the mighty walls and towers of Tashbaan.

Tashbaan the unconquered, whose like was nowhere to be found in this world. A place of spires, towers, minarets and palaces, of a hundred languages and a thousand walled gardens cascading with fountains and scented with incense bearing trees. A city of merchants and warriors, of perfumed harems and stinking sewers, of dreaming poets and dark despots. The centre of a vast empire spanning land and sea. An empire that had subjugated all which was worth subjugating, an empire that had turned its back on the wild north.

In eerie half-light the call to prayer thundered out across the vast city, awakening the multitudes. But the riders had sped off and the bridge was already empty.

The Aan-Agari were those in training, destined to join the elite units of mounted archers which formed the spearhead of the Calormen army. Amongst this number was one who had recently gained his title of Tarkaan by right of birth. Allium Radeesh Tarkaan drew his cape around him in the cold air of the morning, as the unit neared the training ground to the south of the city and surveyed the field before him.

He had graduated with honours from the Aan-Agari five months ago but had first to wait for his election to Tarkaan before being formally offered a commission and then to further wait for a division of Agari to return to Tashbaan so that he could fully enlist. They had not done so yet, so he spent his time with his teacher and sponsor Saleyman Asroc helping to train the others and keeping himself in peak condition.

Apart from being the son of an influential merchant who had died in tragic circumstances a few years hence, he was chiefly known for being the cousin of a dazzling Tarkheena and for a misguided youthful adventure he undertook with four companions on the Great Ocean. If he was impatient to join the Agari, it seemed to be tempered by a sanguine mood which, since that time, occasionally overcame him.

All such considerations were put aside now as he raced past the targets, his arrows slamming into the centre of each. The riders wheeled around at the command of the captain, racing past the spinning bosses time and time again. Unexpectedly the captain ordered a halt. From the distance, across the low fields a faint but unmistakable sound carried. “The horns of summons are sounded! We must return to the city at once”.

To be continued
 
This would appear to be a revised version of a manuscript you posted months ago, on which I made a few comments at the time, right? Please carry the project all the way through; we'll be interested in how it ends.
 
Well, it's actually a completely new story that takes place a few years after the first short story (which I linked above). It draws upon it, as the experiences of the first one have left a mystery which needs resolving.

I'll continue to add to it but it's a bit longer and much more involved. The ideas and characters seem to have taken on a life of their own.
 
A watchman in a tower on the north wall had first seen it. Plumes of smoke rising up from beyond the mist of the river to the north. Then a signal from the garrison stationed in the palisade on the opposite side of the water, at the far end of the northern bridge. The city was located on a large island in the middle of a great river which served as a natural moat. Its huge, sheer walls rising up out of the river like a solid cliff face. Bridges connected it to the north and the south banks.

There were some settlements to the north but these were few and mainly poor. Farmers trying to irrigate land along the river, or keep cattle. Beyond them was the vast Great Desert where few men ventured and beyond that a mountain range which was hardly ever crossed, or even spoken of.

The Akinci, bands of mounted raiders, were always a threat. They came out of the desert and struck without warning, melting away into the vast sands before the military could properly respond. They were rarely captured in significant numbers but seemed to be a loose confederation of several small tribes and bandit clans operating from the badlands of the north west or even beyond.

Whilst the Tisroc claimed the desert as his territory, control was nominal to say the least, the great river effectively formed the frontier which protected the southern heartlands and the core of the Calormen Empire.

The company of archers returned to find the southern gate still open and the city in a state of excitement. As they were not an active unit the captain dismissed his men and ordered them home. Radeesh had seen nothing untoward as they approached from the south. He hailed a soldier who was waking along the street in the opposite direction.

“Oh my most gracious Tarkaan” the soldier began bowing low “There was an attack on the palisade of the northern bridge about an hour ago. It was a large party and they set fire to its walls and darkened the skies with their arrows. We have many dead and wounded. The garrison is being relieved now and the barbarians have moved west along the north bank, burning and pillaging as they go”.

“Is anyone in pursuit?”

“As yet, I think not my lord. The city is safe in any case, they made no attempt to cross the bridge”.

Jostling crowds parted the two and Radeesh (Radi to his closest friends) was lost in thought. Had not his close friend and childhood companion Basaam Tarkaan been given the command of the palisade garrison as his first commission a month ago? He suddenly spurred his horse through streets and alleys of the city, often it seemed swimming against a human tide, ever in the direction of the northern gate.

As he finally passed through it onto the bridge, refugees were streaming into the city. Terrified women and children, injured and wounded soldiers and civilians. Against this mass he made headway and from the bridge could clearly see the smouldering of timbers ahead. The palisade was a large gate house, a provisional structure of earthwork ramparts and timber walls. Garrisoned by about 120 men its function was to prevent ‘undesirables’ from getting to (or escaping from) the city. Or, in the worse case, to buy a little time for the city to prepare for an assault.

The Akinci had never dared attack it and were ill-equipped to do so, being lightly armed and on horseback. This kind of structure was not their usual target, easy prey and plunder more their signature.

To be continued.
 
He crossed over and into the chaotic wreckage of the palisade. A fresh detachment of soldiers were already starting to repair the damage. Around him there were still some dead being collected onto stretchers. An officer approached him.

“Sir, do you have business here?”

“I seek the commander Basaam Tarkaan. Do you know his whereabouts?”

“Yes, he is being tended by a surgeon now, in the buildings yonder.”

He gestured to a low row of barrack huts that stood along the river. The officer had seen the rank of the mounted man and no further questions were asked.

Dismounting, he tied his horse to the railing on the wall and entered the door. Within the darkened building there were many laid on beds in pain and some medics tending wounds. He was directed to a door at the far end of the room. Inside his friend semi-conscious, a surgeon placing a dressing on a chest wound.

“It’s not looking promising my lord”. He addressed the newcomer with barely a glance. “The arrow was bedded deep and has caused much damage. In the claustrophobic darkness a couple of candles burned and spluttered. He noticed the bloodied and discarded arrow on the floor and picked it up. It was long, heavy, crude and of thick diameter. Entirely different from the Calormen design.

“The arrowhead?”

“Still inside, I’m afraid. The shaft detached ere it was touched”.

The surgeon stood upright, wiping his bloodied hands on a cloth. “That’s about as much as I can do for him. I’m not sure whether it would be wise to even try to move him”. He left the room and the Tarkaan sat beside the friend he loved and held his hand. How it had all been different, as they had lost their bearings at sea. Basaam was the best navigator and the bravest of them all. Looking back, it was his insistence they alter course that had brought them to the shore and saved the lives of them both and of their three companions.

“Hey Radi, what are you doing here?” The injured man had slowly come to.

“Basaam, I had to come, I heard what happened. No, don’t try to move, the wound is dressed.”

“They came in the darkness and waited, concealed until daybreak. We saw nothing until the arrows started pouring down and the timbers were set alight”.

“How many?”

“I don’t know. A few hundred but many of them on foot with large bows. Not the usual thing, you know”. He faltered, pain etched on his face.

“I’m dying Radi”.

“No, it’ll be okay, relax my friend”.

“Avenge me Radi. Please, please”.

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The tears had dried on the rider’s face before he passed through the northern gate and back into the tumultuous city. Things had settled down somewhat - the populace calmed, as it was now clear that the threat of danger had passed. He looked up to see two familiar figures, in full armour, on horseback coming in the opposite direction.

Aref and Danush Tarkaans. “Radi! Have you been across? How is Basaam?” A few words told the other friends what they needed to know.

“Apparently, they have not yet seen fit to give pursuit to these vermin” Radeesh continued. “They have dispatched a force of infantry and cavalry to head west along the south bank to shadow them. Their bravado in attacking the palisade appears to be going to pass unpunished, as they do not consider it ‘strategically advisable’ to send a force across to run them down.”

“Where have you learned this Radi?” Aref asked in his thoughtful way.

“A general arrived at the palisade, as I was about to leave. Thankfully a blue, so I was able to get some information out of him.”

“What are we going to do?” Asked Danush. “It’s not like we three can chase after them."

“There’s only one thing we can do. I intend to ride to the unit heading west and request to join them”.

“That’s not possible” objected Danush “You’re not even enlisted and neither are we. I fail to understand why it is taking so infernally long to get a commission”.

Aref turned to Danush “But Radi has sworn an oath to avenge the death of our friend and Calormen law states that any Tarkaan under such conditions may be granted such help as he requests from any fellow Tarkaan in a position to afford it. It is the law and by birthright we can invoke it”.

“Perhaps poking one’s nose into a law book now and again has its uses” Danush conceded. “We’ve no time to lose then, let’s move”. Danush and Aref turned their horses about and the three headed back into the throng of the city.

“Perhaps you should first mention this to your cousin.” Ventured Aref.

“We have no time my friend and besides I need neither her permission nor council in this matter.”

To be continued
 
Last edited:
The next chapter:

The rear-guard had scarce left Tashbaan an hour when they spotted three riders hastily approaching from behind. A Tarkaan and a few cavaliers wheeled around to face them.

“Hail fellows, what is your business? Have you news?”

“Hail Tarkaan we are come to join your force. To avenge the death of our close friend Arec Bassam Tarkaan who gave his life at the palisade.”
The man looked them up and down.

“Go home, we don’t need any help. You are not required.”

“It is law Tarkaan” Aref spoke. “We invoke the law of the book of Xalrok, second chapter, verse six to be precise.”

The Tarkaan was clearly a green, so much was evident from the plumage which adorned the silk turban wound around his helmet. He was shortly joined by another of the same, a more senior rider.

“What’s the problem here?” He asked, snake-like eyes taking in the newcomers.

“They request to join us my captain.”

“Give me your names at once!”
The information duly supplied, the other relaxed a little in his saddle.

“Well, well, well. Gentlemen, it appears we have before us three of the legendary intrepid mariners of Tashbaan.” His sneer was full of derision. “Now it seems we are to be saved, thank the gods” he grinned. Not a single one of you holds military rank nor has any experience to speak of.

You, bowman Allium!, what is that banner you have on the back of your saddle?”

“It is the banner of the Agari, in whose number I have earned a place.”

“Ahh, well that’s rather strange isn’t it? Firstly you are still a mere Aan-Agari and secondly the correct banner is jet black with the golden crest upon it, or so I’m told, unless one of us is colour blind.”

Radeesh felt uncomfortable and his face burned with embarrassment. His elder cousin and mentor Tarkheena Lashmeenie Lashmore had ordered her maids to weave and embroider the banner. It was truly a beautiful piece of work and was indeed black, meeting the requirement of this regiment’s banner but a fine, silken blue thread had been woven into the fabric which at once caught the sunlight and reflected a blue sheen akin to a peacocks plumage.

“So where did you acquire that?”

“My cousin.”

“Ahh The Tarkheena Lashmeenie Lashmore herself! That explains it.” The snake-eyed one added.

Radeesh, astonished half expected some derogatory remark but none came. The Tarkaan looked thoughtful for a moment, almost troubled.

“Don’t look so surprised, who does not know of her in Tashbaan? We greens have the great fortune that she was not born a man. Otherwise, I would have, beyond any doubt, an adversary worthy of that title. You shall ride behind the column until we camp and the General will make a decision at that point. His adjudication will be final. Do not, under any circumstances interfere with, overtake or address any member of this column.”

He whipped his horse and vanished forwards towards the head of the unit, disappearing into the dust.

“The Tarkaan Aceed Jakeel” whispered Danush. “A black-hearted a rodent as ever crawled from the sewers of our city and perhaps the finest swordsman alive. And a cursed green of course. Just our luck to fall in with him.”

No one quite knew the origin of the custom of the two colours. Since time immemorial, the ruling elite of Calormen had been divided into two broad camps; the greens and the blues. Outsiders would never know this and those of the lower orders were hardly aware of it themselves.

Radeesh knew of it. His family, friends and those around him were all of the blue. The two sides fielded teams for sports but the nature of the rivalry between them sometimes had a more profound, darker aspect. One of which, until now, Radeesh had been largely unaware and largely uninterested.

To be continued.
 
So, here's the next chapter:

It was late in the afternoon when the column halted and preparations were made to set up camp. The three riders were worn out thirsty and hungry. They loitered around the edge of the camp unsure of what to do but were eventually brought a little food and drink. They had sighted no enemy on the north bank but had attributed this to the fact that the Calormen forces were still trying to catch them up. In any case it appeared as if the raiders had ceased burning the huts and settlements they passed.

As twilight came, a lanky, shadowy figure approached and the Tarkaan Aceed Jakeel stood before them.

“Gentlemen, I personally would advise you to leave. You may, of course, have a spare tent this evening and depart in the morning. That would be my advice. If you choose not to take it, then the General awaits you in his tent yonder and you may follow me.”

“Lead the way then.”

“On your heads be it.”

They were lead through the camp and brought into a large opulent, circular tent. In the centre was a fire and there were servants and Tarkaans arrayed around a raised seat upon which sat a portly man of about fifty years. Plainly dressed by Calormen standards but with jewels glistening in the fire light from hilts, straps and amulets. The air was heavy with incense and the smell of good food, recently eaten.

“My lord General, the three Tarkaans of which I earlier spoke, crave audience.”

“Then let them come forward Aceed.”

They were motioned forward but as they passed the Tarkaans standing on either side of them an unease grew within them. They did not fail to notice that every single one was a green and on every face derision and scorn was etched.

Then before them was the General. They knew him on sight. A living legend, the supreme General Kan-Katil, known as the Slayer amongst soldiers and a veteran of two crucial battles which re-wrote the rule book on military engagement. He was also known for another fact. His supreme rank had never brought with it the dispassion and magnanimity demanded of it in one crucial area; his abiding animosity towards all persons of the blue was common knowledge.

“Ahh my sons, what a delight it is to have you visit us in this unexpected manner”. His eyes were cast down studying the ornate pommel of a small knife he toyed with, sliding it in and out of its scabbard.
“My Tarkaans tell me that you are quite a little army in your own right.”

There was an awkward silence in which Radeesh wished the ground would swallow him up.

“Yes, even with a most original banner at your disposal. One, I believe, created at the behest of a certain young lady who loves to delve into business which does not concern her.”

“What do you say to that Aceed?” He suddenly addressed the gaunt figure next to him.

“Have the poets not said, oh wise lord, that an intelligent lady is a prize beyond all measure.”

“Indeed they have my son. They have also said that when the hen crows, it is time to cut off its head.”

His piercing gaze now seared directly into the eyes of Radeesh, who lowered his.

“Revenge. Revenge. Revenge.” He continued softly “Is it not an honourable pursuit? I for one have never ignored the gift of opportunity the gods have presented to me. To do so would a indicate a weakness of character. I certainly don’t feel inclined to withhold, from these young men, their just desserts.

Yes, gentlemen you shall be permitted to continue with us. You will, however, understand that I cannot insult my Tarkaans by insisting they share a tent with you, or have you ride ahead of them or even eat with them. You shall be given a soldier’s tent which you shall pitch on the edge of the camp. Dine from soldiers rations and remain at the rear of the column awaiting your orders. I’m sure that to fine young men of your calibre, these petty privations will be as nought.”

With a flick of the wrist they were dismissed and exited the pavilion into the cool night air. As they moved beyond earshot of the camp and pitched their tent, the realisation of the perilous situation they had brought themselves into began to slowly dawn.

“It seems” began Danush quietly “that we are sealed inside...”

“You said it brother” added Aref “and with a thousand ‘green’ vipers at that.”

“Of all the infernal divisions we could have chosen.” Whispered the archer. “There is not a single blue here.”

To be continued.
 
Here's the latest bit. Hope you're still reading and enjoying it:)

Before daybreak, the camp was dismantled and the column moved on. The friends had little to say but as the morning wore on and dusty mile slowly passed dusty mile Radi asked his friends. “Why is it that when a force of perhaps three or four hundred raiders was seen, only five hundred infantry and one hundred cavalry were dispatched? I also don’t understand why no force crossed the river to give chase.”

Danush, the tactical expert carefully replied. “Well, in my opinion, the assault had all the hallmarks of a feint. It was designed to provoke a reaction, so much was obvious. In that situation it’s reasonable to allow for the possibility of another larger force located some way off, either naval or land based. With this in mind the military council would not wish to despatch more men from the capital. The units here are sufficient to dissuade the barbarians from crossing the river, at the fords and bridges further up.

Added to that, there are probably other units, stationed in the hinterland which are heading up towards the river now. As to why they didn’t give chase, it’s fairly straightforward. Their archers have bows which are capable of delivering damage at a distance. Infantry and standard cavalry are at a disadvantage, as they also seem to have cavalry. Your beloved Agari would give them a run for their money but as you know there are currently no divisions in Ta...”

His voice suddenly trailed away. “Don’t look now, but I think I’ve seen some movement on the opposite bank.”

The sun beat down on the track and it had been the glimmer of something metallic which had caught the corner of Danush’s eye. There were shrubs and trees along the opposite side and there was some movement behind them. Suddenly they broke cover, two barbarian riders with spears and shields slung on their backs.

They were riding in the same direction and at the same speed and were fully aware that they had been spotted. They began to shout taunts across the river and raise their spears in defiance. They gesticulated in an insulting fashion and whooped and howled.

Then one of them produced a longbow and nocked an arrow on the string. Radeesh could immediately see what an inelegant affair that was. The bow was too large for use on horseback and would limit the rider to only using one side of the horse to shoot from. One barbarian began to make mocking screams, as if scared and the other, laughing, drew the arrow, then let it down without releasing it.

“Those fools are provoking us but can they actually reach us with that bow Radi?” Asked Aref.

“I don’t know but they will no doubt try.” The Aan-agari was distracted, a distant look in his eyes.

Aware of a shallow slope on the river bank a few yards ahead, of the way the shallower water spun over stones. Of the distance. Of the bow out of the quiver in his hand, of the water splashing up to his thighs. A faint cry to stop from somewhere behind him, an arrow whizzing past his head, of the string drawn on the thumb ring, to anchor below his ear. Of the release - of the first rider unseated in a blur, the second turning around listing back and then tumbling from his horse. Two deadly arrows within seconds had found their mark.

But others were flying towards him now, landing in the water around him. A voice “Get out of there Radi! Get out it’s a trap”. Of his horse sliding up the side of the wet bank, of arrows left and right. Of urging the steed up and out and finally breaking the hold of the river and racing from it.

Of the uproar from the cheering soldiers. The icy stares from assembled green Tarkaans who ordered their men’s silence. The relieved faces of his concerned friends.

He turned to look back across the river. A dozen longbowmen stood on the opposite bank and had now ceased shooting. They had been concealed amongst low bushes there but their plan had not worked. They could not have reckoned with the skill and accuracy of one of their enemy and had overestimated their own marksmanship.

The exercise had betrayed how far the barbarian arrows could reach. Now the Calormens could adjust their distance accordingly. He dismounted, picked up an arrow of the same crude, large kind he’d seen at the palisade and slid it absentmindedly into his quiver, where it stuck out a few inches further than his own.

A little way off Aceed Tarkaan was being briefed about the events he’d just missed and he rode over to the Agari.

“Hand your bow over now!” He barked. Radeesh had to obey the command of a senior.
You deliberately disobeyed orders to undertake no unauthorised action. You are insubordinate and unfit for any rank in my opinion. It appears...” he said turning to the other Tarkaans ...”that our little sailor crew have a habit of throwing themselves towards barbarian arrows.”

The subtle reference to his friend didn’t at first dawn on him. Only later did the anger rise in him over this oblique slight.

“Also, for your information, this episode does not confer upon you the battle honour of first blood, as it is never awarded for insubordinate action or casual skirmishes, so if that was your motivation, you can forget it. You will face the lash if you attempt another cheap shot at glory, like this.”

The Tarkaan rode back to the front of the column. Radeesh mounted and rode over to his friends. As he passed the soldiers, without looking his way, they mumbled. “Good shooting Sir. Well done Sir.”

His two friends appeared stunned. In all the years of their acquaintance they had never once seen him use his bow and had no idea of what his extensive training had prepared him to do. Impressed, they were but shocked in equal measure.

To be continued.
 
Well, I hope Christmas went well for all. So, let the turkey digest, put your feet up and read on:


The day wore on under the sweltering heat of the Calormen sun. Of the enemy, the friends saw nothing. How much longer would the raiders head west? It was a few days march before the first bridge could be reached and by that time, the rapid messengers of the empire with their fast mounts and relay stations would have alerted the garrisons in the area and a sizable force would be available to deal with them.

As the day drew to a close the column halted and once more pitched camp. Radeesh felt lost without his bow and wondered whether he would see it again. He had some ability with the scimitar he carried but generous estimates would only consider him average in its use.

That night the dream returned to him again. The sunlit glade, the music. This time he found himself kneeling before the maiden in a green dress but he could not bear to look her into her face. She stroked her fingers through his hair and spoke softly to him. “Oh Tarkaan do you not seek your freedom?” He was confused “I don’t understand of what you speak noble lady.”

“Those who hate are bound forever. Those who love are freed. If you carry this hate within you, it will destroy you.”

“What should I otherwise do? A Tarkaan is bound by duty fair maiden, of this you know nothing.”

“Then I will teach you to love the blood you hate Radi. You shall yearn for that which you despise.”

She had used his name and in surprise he looked up into her face. It was beautiful beyond all measure and there was something unearthly about her eyes. Clear, bright and amber, eternal like the stars. Then before him the face of a great lion who roared one word “Awaken!”

Aref had been woken by his friends nightmarish sobs and half muttered words. He touched his shoulder “Wake up Radi, it’s just a dream.” The dreamer awoke and sat upright looking disoriented. He was breathing rapidly and soaked with sweat.

“What was that all about?” Whispered Aref.

“Nothing. I just need to get some air.”

“I’ll come with you.”

The friends left a blissfully sleeping Danush in the tent. They had no inclination to head towards the camp which lay before them a short way from the road. They headed back down stream. Ahead on the road was the fire of a sentry post. As they got to it they found the two guards asleep, exhausted from a days march.

“Sleeping on duty soldiers?” Questioned Aref. Radeesh was surprised that Aref chose to wake the men and risk getting sent back towards the camp.

The men woke with a start, fearing for their lives. If any of their Tarkaans had thus found them they could have expected dire consequences. As a result they were more than willing to permit the two friends to stroll off along the road.

“If they’d woken up before we returned”, Aref explained, “we’d have been in trouble. Like this, it’s above board. We say nothing, they say nothing.”

“I wish I had your wisdom Aref. I only seem able to land myself in trouble”.

The stars were bright, glistening in a cool night sky and the half moon gave just enough light to make out the river and the edges of the road.

“Have you had news from Hayraan?” Queried Radeesh, wishing to avoid any unpleasant topics.

“Yes, last week I got a letter from him. His new posting is going well, although he complains it’s a little boring. Not much to do apparently apart from sauntering around in his uniform and impressing the local girls.”

“Sounds perfect for him.”

“Not exactly. He complains the local girls look like their goats and the only star on his horizon is a rich merchant’s daughter, who he finds very attractive but hard to get close to.”

“Typical. He’ll think of something no doubt. The girls in Tashbaan must be missing him by now and he them.”

“I’m too not sure. He contradicts himself further on. He says the sea is beautiful there and the climate pleasing. So nice, in fact, he would consider not returning.”

Radeesh noticed his feet were wet and muddy. “That’s all I need, this mud is deep.”

“I wondered what it was too. My shoes are ruined no doubt.” Replied Aref with a note of dry humour. The thought occurred to them both simultaneously. Why was the road here wet, muddy and churned up? There had been no rain for weeks and there had been no sign of mud there as they passed earlier that evening.

In the moonlight, their eyes adjusted to the darkness, they could just make out a glistening trail of churned, wet ground leading down to the river. They followed it and in the silvery half-light they found ropes and many timbers pulled up onto the bank.

“I think they’ve crossed over Radi.”

“Yes, some of them at least. We’ve got to get back.”

A while later a crowd of soldiers bearing torches stood on the bank whilst their officers inspected the scene. “At least a significant amount of men and hoses have crossed” proclaimed Aceed Jakeel Tarkaan. “They appear to have slung ropes across and used a combination of rafts and other constructions to aid them.”

“It’s clearly the work of betrayal and foreign backing.” He continued, addressing a couple of Tarkaans who stood near him. “As far as I can tell, the quality and type of timbers used are of a kind to be found in the mountains of Archenland to the north. They also use bows of this sort so we may assume they are sponsoring and equipping this incursion. In any case, that will form the basis of my report.”

“But honourable Tarkaan”, started Radeesh “the timbers appear to have been previously used in constructions of one kind or another. There are wooden pin holes where there is otherwise no need for them and they seem to have used ropes to secure scraps of beams together. Perhaps it explains why we have seen no burning on the north bank in the last two days. If they have instead collected these timbers from the dwellings they have passed.”

The gaunt snake-eyed Tarkaan walked over to him.

“What do you know of that which I speak?

About the same time as you were having your hides spanked for your maritime misadventures I was part of the mercantile diplomatic mission of Jarlan Zosh to Archenland and beyond into Narnia. What have you ever seen of these things?”

Radeesh dropped his gaze.

“Exactly, nothing at all. So your defence of the barbarian is as hasty as it is suspect, don’t you think?”

“What do you mean by that Sir?”

“There may be those, wiser than I, who would question by what circumstances you happened to be here on this bank in the dead of night. They may ask what business you had, what knowledge and by which covert message the barbarian knew it was safe to cross.”

The slight took a second to sink in but the response was fast and furious. “Are you implying, that I am in collusion with these raiders?”

“Have not the poets said, the stain of guilt is blotted upon the page of denial”.

“You dog!” Shouted Radeesh, “You lie! You scoundrel! It’s untrue, all of it!”

There was no emotion in the eyes of the gaunt Tarkaan, save a barely perceptible sneer. There was stunned silence as the assembled group observed him slowly remove one glove and toss it at the feet of the furious young man. No words were needed. As Aceed walked away the gesture was clear. The terms ‘dog’ and ‘scoundrel’ when addressed to a Tarkaan by one of his peers was a slight that could only be rectified by a duel.


To be continued.
 
The next (shortish) chapter:


On the following morning scouts were dispatched across the river and returned reporting no sign of the enemy. It became clear that the whole force had crossed and was already some way to the south. They had outsmarted the Calormens, doubling back and crossing in the night. Their force was now heading into the heart of a prosperous but sleepy province dotted with villas, residences and villages. A province without a sizable settlement and few military units to speak of.

The Calormen column moved south away from the river, leaving behind two dead sentries hanging from hastily erected gallows. The timber and rope used had been brought from the river upon the instructions of Tarkaan Jakeel who had ordered the punishment - the irony self-evident.

If the raiders had spared the north bank they did not spare the hinterland. Villas were plundered and villages torched. Their trail was easy to follow, one of destruction, devastation and despair. Those who escaped could, those who were caught unawares perished.

After two days of forced marching the Calormens had closed the gap. The barbarians were a few hours in front of them and had drifted along a valley floor that veered south east on a road that lead towards Tashbaan.

As the Calormens pitched camp that evening, Radeesh noticed Aceed talking with the general. He was pointing back towards a burned out villa they had passed an hour ago and gesturing around in an agitated manner.

“I wonder what that’s all about eh Radi.” It was Danush who had joined him.
“Has he mentioned when he wants his duel then?

“Not yet in any case” Radeesh replied thoughtfully. “I expect he’ll wait till we return to the capital, so he can make a meal of it.”

“I’m sorry Radi, you’re not even a snack for him. Do you see the way he wears two scimitars in the dual scabbard on his back? Well, he uses them both at the same time. No shield. It’s a skill not many master and he is rated the best swordsman in Tashbaan, if not the empire. Your only hope is to appeal to the Tisroc, may he live for ever, to see if he could intervene on your behalf. That man has never yet been defeated."

Aref had joined them. “There’s no chance his highness would intervene. It would contravene every protocol in the book.” He was quiet for a while.

“I have a first cousin in the south. It’s the middle of nowhere. He owes me a favour Radi. If you disappeared before we got back to Tashbaan then...”

“What! and live my life a fugitive Aref? How could I do that? I slighted him, so fight we must.”

“He set you up for it friend, I saw it. With the passage of time the truth would come to light.”

“With any luck the rat will stop a barbarian arrow soon.” Intervened Danush. “We’re very close to them now and it’s expected we’ll join combat tomorrow. At least we may avenge Basaam and then in turn Radi, whatever it takes, however long it takes, we will avenge you, I swear that.”

“I know my brother and I thank you for it.”

To be continued.
 
Another bite-size chapter to nibble - hope you're enjoying it:

At daybreak there came a summons for the three friends to the general’s tent. They soon stood before the leader in his full war regalia who was issuing commands to his subordinates.
“Ah gentlemen, here you are.” He turned to face them. “As you are no doubt aware, we are closing in on the enemy and I, therefore, have a special task for you to perform. Come outside with me.”

They stepped outside into the grey light of early morning.

“About half a mile ahead on the south side of this valley is a track which leads up to the ridge. You should ascend this track and head along the top of the ridge, bearing east. After a mile or so there is a road leading back down into the valley past a small village. You are to take that and rejoin us. By this time we should be in position to attack the barbarians.

Your task is to search for enemy scouts or any suspicious activity and report back. Under no circumstances should you engage with enemy soldiers, do you understand?”

They nodded.

“Oh wise general”, commenced Radeesh cautiously “Tarkaan Aceed Jakeel has in his possession my bow and I wondered if...”

“You will have no need of it and I am not inclined to trouble my finest officer, over such a triviality, as he makes his preparations.”

The general looked at the hills around and sighed. “Lads, I was like you once, young and impetuous.” He had dropped the high Calormen style and lapsed into the familiar mode of speech which - with a kind of forced joviality - did nothing to lessen the apprehension they felt.

“Some of my Tarkaans have advised me against giving you this task, for obvious reasons. But I personally feel like offering you the chance to make good. Your mischief was no doubt the result of boredom and inactivity. You wanted to get on with it and see some action eh?

Well, follow my orders to the letter and I will re-consider my obligation to report your conduct to the military tribunal in Tashbaan. I will assign three men to accompany you.”

With that he turned around and vanished back into his tent, the guards outside it staring grimly at the friends.

To be continued.
 
The track was were the general had said. It was dusty and steep and as the sun rose it was hot going. The three soldiers that had been assigned to the friends were on foot, so that slowed them down. In addition they were unusual characters from a far flung province. It was obvious they lacked any basic education and when they spoke only Danush, who had lived for a short time near that region, could understand them.

Two were quite old and toothless the third very young and scared. As far as Danush could establish, they came from a subject tribe and were handed over to the military as a kind of tax payment. They did not much like the general and were careless in their condemnation of him, perhaps used to the fact that nobody could understand a word they said, or cared to listen.

As the friends rode a little ahead of them Danush vented his frustration.

“It’s obvious this fool’s errand has been cooked up to get us out of the way! By the time we drag these three up the hill and down again, the battle will be over and we shall be denied any hand in it. No chance whatsoever to avenge our friend.”

“The same thing occurred to me” said Radi. “The barbarians are clever and would have no reason to split their force in this way, especially not hours away up some dirt track where they can neither ambush our forces nor aid their own. There’s nothing up here at all, it’s miles from anywhere. A complete waste of time. ”

“If that’s all it amounts to friends, then I will be relieved.”

They looked askance at Aref.

“There could be more to it I mean, but then again I may be getting paranoid. Just forget it.”

There came a sound from behind and they turned to see one of the older soldiers down on all fours making some unintelligible noises.

“What’s up with him Danush? Has he collapsed?”

“No he’s found tracks. Apparently he claims there are some riders ahead and a wagon.”

“How could anyone drag a wagon up here?” Said Aref.

“If there are, then well catch them up sooner or later I guess, unless it’s a just a case of too much sun for our toothless friend there.” Said Radeesh. “In any case the barbarians had no wagons with them, so it could be some of our people getting out of harms way.

Half an hour later, as they neared the top of the track they could see a wagon ahead with three riders accompanying it.

“Calormen by the looks of it. What do you reckon?” Danush and Aref looked long and hard. “Perhaps we should ride up and ask them what they are doing and if they’ve seen anything” ventured Danush.

Leaving the three foot soldiers behind they spurred their horses on. As they approached the wagon they could see it was of the covered Calormen transport kind, used by the gentry, particularly ladies and the elderly to travel around. The three horsemen heard them approach and looked around. They were dressed in the exquisite flowing robes of personal escorts and armed with scimitars. Beneath their bright red silken turbans the men wore veils like desert travellers, concealing their faces.

“Hail brothers” called Radeesh as he approached the group. “Where are you bound and what news do you have?”

None of the riders spoke but exchanged glances with each other.

“Inform your master or mistress that we are Tarkaans from the force commanded by General Kan-Katil. We are authorised to request any information which may be of help in countering the incursion of which I’m sure you are fully aware.”

To be continued.
 
Happy New Year to all. Here's the next bit:

It had been a hard dusty slog that morning for Aegrik and the other two soldiers. Ordered to accompany three impatient young Tarkaans up the valley side. Their only orders; to stick to the path and return via the village and the threat that they would share the gallows like the others, if they disobeyed.

“So, why’s that one with a quiver got no bow then?” Asked Aegrik’s toothless companion as they trudged on behind the riders.

“He took a shot at the barbarians down near the river. You should have seen it. You saw it didn’t you lad?” He motioned at the young man walking with them who nodded enthusiastically.

“Anyway, amazing show. He took his horse into the river and in a flash decked two of them with two arrows, quick as you can imagine. Well, they shot back at him but missed. When he came out Old Two-Swords took his bow off him.”

“Ahh! Doesn’t surprise me. He wouldn’t like anyone else getting the glory. I can’t stand him.” The companion replied. “Him and that general, both as rotten as each other. Spend more time killing Calormens than anything else nowadays.”

“No loss to me then” grinned Aegrik “They can slice each other up as much as they want for all I care. They don’t like those young men very much though do they. You can tell.”

“Is it true...” ventured the lad nervously “...that their archers are their best weapon? I don’t understand why they would take that man’s bow off him.”

“Their best weapon lad” said Aegrik drily “has always been and will always be gold. Just about buy anything or anyone they want they can. I tell you now lad, most of their battles are bought and sold before they’ve even lifted a finger. That’s how they got their hands on our lands and don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

“Don’t get him started on that” the companion cautioned “and besides I think the big one can understand a fair bit of what we’re saying, so watch it”.

“Tracks” noted Aegrik “Looks like a wagon with a few horses, although them three in front are messing it up a bit and they haven’t even noticed”.

“Excuse me Sirs...” he ventured ...

“They’re not listening Aegrik”.

“Nothing else for it then eh!” He fell down on all fours and bellowed out at the top of his voice in a deliberately exaggerated accent “Here be tracks yer lordships! A waggon and some horsies”.

The other two had to struggle not to laugh at Aegrik’s comic genius, especially as the young Tarkaans took his antics quite seriously, unaware of the fun being poked at them. The big one did understand what had been said and he informed the other two.

They moved on.

“You silly old idiot” said the other quietly. “You’re lucky they’re pretty slow on the uptake otherwise you’d be in trouble”.

But Aegrik just grinned. That most Calormens lacked any sense of humour was quite well known. Tell them something in jest and they would inevitably take it seriously. If it was serious then they would smile thinly in disdain or derision. Stupid, concluded Aegrik, they certainly were.

Their young leaders spotted the wagon first and sped off towards it.

“Told them, didn’t I” gloated Aegrik.

From a distance, through the dust and haze he could make out the archer next to one of the mounted escorts. With amazement he could see the escort drawing his scimitar. Not with any great skill or speed it seemed, a fact which must have prevented the blow from taking the young Tarkaan’s head off, as he raised his shield just in time to deflect it.”

“What on earth’s going on! We’d better get up there fast” gasped Aegrik. “If those guys get killed, we’ll get it too”.

They started to run and as they peered through the swirling dust, the sun in their eyes, they could just make out the two other Tarkaans engaged in combat with two escorts and getting the better of them. The archer seemed to have knocked his opponent down and was in the process of chasing after the wagon which had suddenly sped off.

They reached the first man on the ground. He was dead and as Aegrik pulled aside the robes it was clear what was wrong. “Barbarians!” He shouted. The clothing underneath was of rough leather and foreign appearance.
On the belt there was a kind of short stabbing sword which would explain the man’s amateurish use of his scimitar.

By the time the three foot soldiers had caught up with the Tarkaans it was all over. Four barbarians lay fallen, the wagon halted, the archer's two companions standing next to it with their weapons lowered.

Presently the archer appeared helping two veiled ladies out of the wagon.

To be continued.
 
There was a spring close by beneath some trees which cast deep shadows in the mid day sun. As the two ladies refreshed themselves with cool water Danush and Aref turned to Radeesh and asked him what had happened.

The details were a muddle but he remembered deflecting a blow he could hardly believe was happening and returning one rather badly which surprisingly unseated the man. Then the screams of girls or women from the wagon as it raced off. He easily caught it up but the path was narrowing and he was in danger of being edged off it.

How he got on and fought the driver, he couldn’t clearly recall but the man had lost his footing as he lunged with a short sword and had fallen off under the wheels.

“It appears the barbarians planned to use these ladies as hostages”. Aref said thoughtfully. “I wonder who they are”.

“They said nothing as I helped them out. I guess they’ll tell us in due course”.

One of the girls left the shade of the tree and walked over to the friends.

“My friend wishes to speak with you” she said to Radeesh. He was strangely apprehensive as he approached the lone figure waiting in the shade.

“My lady, you wished to speak to me”.

In the trees above there were birds singing and the shade was a relief after the sun. The spring was gurgling from the rock face and flowing in a small stream down the valley side.

The lady turned and spoke. As she did, she drew back her veil and then, for the first time he clearly saw her face. He had to repress the urge to ask whether they had met before, as her face was hauntingly beautiful yet also somehow familiar. Her eyes pale like honey or amber. Her hair dark as ebony and skin golden and smooth.

“I must thank you Sir for saving my life and that of my companion. It would please me to know the name of he who saved my life”.

He stood transfixed, the dagger of love driven deep into his heart. He hardly heard her words, merely the sound of her voice, like the call of a deeper mystery.

“I am Allium Radeesh Tarkaan” he muttered “but please just call me Radi”. The last was a faux pas of great magnitude and he shamed himself ere he had said it. It was not the done thing to offer such informality to a girl of noble birth in this manner.

“I thank you Radi, she replied sweetly. I am Rosa and my friend is Iris. We were taken from her house by these barbarians who slew her servants and donned these disguises”.


She was about his age, perhaps a year younger and her flawless beautiful accent betrayed her birth as a high born Tashbaanite.

The breeze strafed a strand of her hair across her face and she lifted her hand to brush it aside. She was looking along the road now in the direction they planned to travel - her profile beautiful and delicate. He noticed a small faint scar running down an inch or so from below the edge of her right eye, close to her ear but this did not detract in any way from her looks.

She spoke, almost it seemed to herself. “That boy has just emerged from out of nowhere. He wasn’t on the road a minute ago”.

Radi didn’t register this at all. Just noticing how her eyes seemed to have a light of their own in that shade. How her lips moved and her elegant hands, unusually bereft of any jewelry.

“I thank you again my lord and hope one day to return the favour”. She reapplied her veil, their eyes meeting once more as she did, then turned and walked away.

The archer’s friends joined him under the tree.

“So, what did you find out Radi?” Asked Danush.
“Well, the one, I mean she is called Rosa and her friend I think was Iris”.

“So, just their Flower Names then” remarked Aref. “Probably greens in that case. It’s odd that I couldn’t discern anything on the servants clothes, the livery of the wagon or the clothing of the girls, there’s usually some kind of clue”.

Now that it had been pointed out to him, it was obvious. High born girls who were not of marriageable age had started a trend with something called a Flower Name. It was used within a close circle of friends and family and destined to fade over time as the girl became a lady and her title became an object of social importance.
Had she deliberately avoided giving him her real name, as Aref implied, or had she responded in kind to his ridiculous invitation to use casual names in order to spare his shame, as any noble lady might?

Aref was also right about the attire of the girls. Tarkheena Lashmeenie Lashmore had lectured her younger cousin Radeesh (as part of his preparation for court life) that it was always possible to tell the affiliation of a lady from subtle details. From the way she wore her hair, choice of jewelry, makeup or even faint patterns within the fabric of her clothes. Nothing was ever left to chance. Although to the uninitiated such minor details would be entirely unnoticeable, within court circles this ever-evolving dress code formed a sub-culture and language all of its own. That most men could not keep up with it went without saying but that these high-born girls were so obviously dressed in such a neutral way, their clothes luxurious but plain, bestowed an aura of mystery upon them.

To be continued
 
I hope these chapters aren't too long. I could divide them up if folks are struggling? Anyway:


As the shepherd boy approached the trees near the spring he noticed three men in armour talking beneath them. A short way off was a wagon with two ladies stood in the shade talking and further still what appeared to be three soldiers burying something beside the road.

“Excuse me Sirs, may I have some water?”

They looked at the boy. He was about ten or eleven and carried a baby lamb in his hands.

“Of course” said one and they stepped aside. Then one who carried a quiver full of arrows and no bow seemed to snap out of a daydream, as if he had remembered something and asked.

“How did you get up here boy? Did you come by the road from the village?”

“Pardon me Sir? No Sir, of course not. I didn’t disobey the soldiers, honestly”.

“What soldiers are you talking about?”

“You know, the ones that came into our village this morning and ordered nobody to use the road between the village and the ridge”.

“How many of them were there?”

“About twenty Sir, I think. They got concealed along the sides of the road”.

The large Tarkaan who had not yet spoken, turned to a smaller companion and said “The next time you feel paranoid about something Aref, I would be thankful if you would share your thoughts with us”.

The other looked dismayed “Yes, but that he would actually be prepared to go so far?”

The boy noticed that they appeared disturbed by this news, though he couldn’t understand why, as they were also soldiers and should surely wish to join their friends further on.

“So how did you get up here then?”

“By the trackway Sir. It’s an old herding track. It runs from below the village to just back there where I came out”.

Could we get our horses down it?”

“Er, yes I suppose so, if you are careful.”

“Then we would be pleased if you were to guide us down it”.

“But Sir my father has sent me to bring this lamb to my uncle who is in the pasture about a mile further”.

The large Tarkaan crouched down in front of him with a warm smile and produced a gold coin from a pouch. “Would this compensate your father for the delay?” The boy was astonished and agreed at once.

The three foot soldiers were greatly disturbed by the news that the party were to descend by another route. They protested that the general would hang them. Danush spoke to them, as he understood their dialect best of all.

“I would consider it a pointless waste of life were you to also die. I see no need for it. Take the robes the barbarians used to disguise themselves and their horses and ride back to your territory. I do not think you are more than two or three days away from it here.”

The soldiers were astonished at the compassion of this Tarkaan.

“I advise you to also leave your armour. Bury it here somewhere. If you stick to the back roads and avoid patrols, nobody will challenge you, as you will look like servants of a noble house on errand.” He then produced three gold coins and gave them to the men.
“It looks like it’s an expensive day for me today”. He said with a wry smile. “Perhaps, in this instance, Calormen gold can help buy freedom”.

The men cast their eyes down in shame. He had clearly overheard their previous conversation.

Danush rejoined the others waiting to head down the track. Aref looked at him in askance. He addressed his two friends in confidence.

“I have no idea how we are going to talk our way out of this friends but one thing’s for sure, the truth would have been tortured out of those three fellows within hours. This buys us some time at least”.

To be continued.
 
The part several posts back, about rebuking a soldier for undisciplined action and refusing him credit for first blood, reminds me of something. I seem to recall reading once that there was an ancient Roman or Greek general who had forbidden his men to conduct individual duels on the battlefield...and that this man executed HIS OWN SON for having fought an unauthorized single combat.
 
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