The beginning of the end

The soft gold of morning slowly spread over the majestic sprawl of the enemy camp. A glorious ensemble of tents filled with a regimented hustle of soldiers and auxiliaries. Though it was early in the morning, the soldiers were fully armed & armoured, and organised in their neat formations. They were far from their jaunty and sleek selves. Many had scars and scratches, most had soot and dirt, and all looked exhausted and edgy. They stood among a sprawling mass of burnt and smouldering ruins. The soldiers had had a wholesome dinner in the previous evening, the full belly and the calmness of evening had started to soothe the exhaustion and agony they had suffered on the battlefield all day. The perimeter guards were too far away to notice the hundreds of fireflies suddenly lighting up along the riverbank, they hadn’t noticed the fireflies taking to the sky either, but they had noticed the fireflies raining down on their camp. Their amazement had turned into alarm as the fireflies morphed into flaming arrows. The huge tent was made of thick cloth and the cloth was damp with the evening dew. Most of the arrows snuffed out quickly, but a few didn’t and a few embers started to glow. More and more fireflies landed and by the time the camp sprang to life, the tent was sprinkled with embers which were slowly turning into smoke and flames. At the first hint of smoke, the elephants became restless, they had had enough of fires and burning during the day.

A battalion of Tempestas sped into the night in search of the archers of the dark. By the time they had reached the riverbank, their enemies had melted away. Back at the camp, the soldiers and the auxiliaries tried their best to douse the sprouting fires. They couldn’t throw water as high as the roof, but some climbed to the roof and pulled up buckets of water. They did douse some of the flames, but there were too many and they just couldn’t keep dousing fast enough. If that wasn’t enough trouble, standing on a tent now being violently shaken by a hoard of spooked monsters made their job impossible. As the flames grew and the smoke thickened, the elephants lost their nerves and went into a frenzy to get away. Soon, chains snapped and poles crashed, those who got free went into a mad dash through the camp while those still tied or trapped kept struggling and kept bringing the tent down. The terror-struck wailings of the elephants trapped inside the burning tent spurred the elephants which had managed to free themselves into an uncontrollable fit. Dozens of monsters went rampaging through the camp, smashing and trampling anything and anyone in their way. The soldiers killed a few. The rest escaped from the camp and into the dark, but not before reducing parts of the camp into ruins. Hours went by into repairing the damages and tending to the wounded; it was past midnight before any semblance of sanity returned to the camp.

Then, the fireflies took to the sky once more. Cloaked by the darkness and unnoticed in the chaos, another battalion of archers had moved to the rear of the camp. Thousands of flaming arrows landed on the tents storing the supplies. For a few long moments, the campers just watched the descending doom in exasperation; it appeared that they had been drained of any will or energy to fight back. But they did. Like they had many times in the past, in situations as dire as such, they summoned their fading resolve and energy. A battalion of Tempestas sped into the night in search of the archers of the dark and got ambushed by the enemies they couldn’t see. Then they tried to subdue the enemy with their own shower of arrows. Some of the enemies got hit, but it was impossible to pin down an enemy that was as fleeting and flickering as the fireflies in the darkness. Back at the camp, the soldiers and the auxiliaries tried their best to douse the sprouting fires. But they couldn’t just throw water at random as that would ruin the very supplies they were trying to save. As the flames grew and the smoke thickened, they started to take the supplies out of the burning tents. If moving heavy boxes and bundles from burning tents was hard, the shower of arrows made it just hellish. Still, they trudged on; until the shower stopped.

Despite the nightlong havoc, the generals remained unbowed about the plan they had reached earlier in the evening. Their entire force, the remaining Tempestas and the Deb Rokkhi infantry will attack the enemy on the open ground. They wouldn’t be distracted by the force inside the fort anymore. They had realized that a bigger force, attacking from all sides would have crushed the enemy. They had calculated that even if the forces from the fort (and the elephants) joined with the main army or attacked them from the flank, the combined forces of the Tempestas and Deb Rokkhi infantry would defeat the enemy. But they were bitterly aware of the cost of such victory; many, many thousands wouldn’t live to tell the tale. And so they stood, edgy and exhausted, but ready and resolute. A lone rider came out of the morning haze on the other side of the river. By the time the generals shoved their way to the front, the rider was crossing the river. ‘Take me to the Generals, I have a message from our King and his council’ he spoke to the first line of Tempestas. The Polemarch and the General rode to meet the rider. ‘Polemarch, General’, the rider gave a small bow as he addressed them. The generals returned the courtesy, ‘What message do you bring’ the Deb Rokkhi general asked, but the Polemarch just kept looking intently at the rider. ‘The King and his council request a parley with you’ the rider replied. The General looked at his comrade but the Polemarch was still looking at the rider and it was doubtful that he had heard anything that had been said recently.

‘Polemarch’ the General softly called. This did bring him out of the trance, but his response was unexpected; ‘You look familiar, I have seen you before’ he said while still watching the rider intently. ‘Of course, I am’, Orco laughed heartily; ‘You have saved my life after all’. Then he removed part of his shirt to reveal the long-healed but still ominously visible claw mark of the leopard. Now, it was the Polemarch’s turn to laugh, a maniacal laughter that lasted long moments and reverberated across the phalanx. He stumbled to a halt once he noticed the almost alarmed looks among the soldiers. ‘He was in our camp’, he said to the General, pointing his hand to a faraway place in the west; ‘five years ago’. The General gave the rider a half-rueful and half-admiring scoff, Orco humbly bowed in reply. ‘Well, what brings you to our camp this time’, the Polemarch was threatening to burst into another fit of laughter. The General briefed his colleague. Moments passed as the Polemarch sank into deep contemplation, then he looked at the General and they understood each other. ‘Take us to you king’ the Polemarch said rather heartily. After giving some instructions to their commanders, the generals flanked the messenger into the river and then towards the enemy camp in the distance.

The journey was short and they rode in silence, but as they came close to the camp, the Polemarch broke the silence, ‘What do those flags mean?’ ‘The white crescent on the field of blue belongs to Nilambori, the seafarers from the south. The golden flame on the field of red belongs to Omoraboti, the land beyond Ruposi’ he pointed south where the river flowed. ‘The green leaf on white represents Jongol Mohol, the forest realm in the east, and the red Sun on the field of green belongs to us.’ Under a canopy in front of the masses of soldiers stood the king, he was accompanied by the Second Prince, Chotoo, and the General of Omoraboti. Conspicuous in their absence were the commanders of Nisorgo, Nokkhottro, and Suborna. The commanders had fallen in the battle and Suborna had left for Nisorgo for their funeral.

‘What do you propose, Oh mighty king’ the Polemarch said once the introductions and the pleasantries were done. ‘I propose you surrender’ the king said calmly. Then he continued, ‘The soldiers will remain our prisoners while you, he gestured to the generals, ride to your kings and return with the compensation, two hundred thousand gold pieces’. There was silence; deep, impregnable silence. More than their valour during the battle, more than their brilliance about the nightly raids, it was the calm confidence of their king that unnerved the Polemarch and the Deb Rokkhi General. Finally, the General spoke ‘With due respect, oh mighty king, don’t you feel your proposal is premature? True, you have hurt us badly, but we are still a force capable of defeating you.’ The king smiled, a smile that was innocent and serene, a smile that only emanated goodwill. The General and the Polemarch wondered in silence, this was the man who commanded the fiercest and the trickiest warriors they had faced, yet, he was the most benevolent of all the kings and chieftains they had met. They tried to fathom his strength that was suppressing all the anger and anguish. ‘Your soldiers haven’t eaten much this morning’ the king said in his usual soft, calm voice, ‘and they will have even less in the evening. From tomorrow, they will practically starve. Though they are valiant warriors, they will have little strength to fight us on the third day.’ The General was about to say something but he stopped at the gesture of the king. ‘We know you have sent for supplies’ he continued ignoring the surprise in the eyes of the Generals, ‘but it’s a week’s journey, and they will face numerous ambushes on the way.’

Again, there was that impregnable silence. ‘But’ the Polemarch sounded exasperated, ‘what if the kings don’t agree to your terms, what if they come with a bigger army?’ The king looked a bit exasperated too, he waved his hands a bit, but his voice was as mellow as ever, ‘This is our home, we are not going anywhere.’ The Generals realized the futility of this war, this land wouldn’t be conquered without annihilating this people. This people wouldn’t accept subjugation and there would be endless battles and rebellions until their land was cleansed of the invaders. When the Polemarch looked at his comrade, the General just nodded slightly. ‘We will accept your proposal, on one condition’ the Polemarch said clearly. As the king waited, he continued ‘The soldiers will be allowed to leave’. ‘We’ he gestured to the General ‘and the commanders will be your prisoners’. Now, it was the king who went into deep thought. ‘Will your soldiers be able to convince the kings?’ he asked. ‘The fact that their generals and commanders are held prisoners should be convincing enough’ the Deb Rokkhi General said. ‘You don’t have much supplies, how would the soldiers march for days on empty bellies’ the general of Omoraboti pointed. The General and the Polemarch remained silent. The General of Omoraboti watched his counterparts, he understood them. Knowing your soldiers are starving, the very soldiers who had sworn to die at your command is unbearable for a General. He then addressed the king, ‘We were going to feed the soldiers if they were our prisoners, and maybe we can lend them some supplies for the journey’.

The king watched the Generals for some moments, their faces had eased a little but something was still troubling them, and he knew what. They were mighty Generals, leaders of proud men; they didn’t accept charity. Finally, he smiled again. ‘You have such wonderful horses’ he sounded truly admiring, but the Generals looked a bit puzzled at the sudden mention of the horses. ‘We would like to buy some of those, what’s your price?’ slowly, the faces of the Generals lit up in smiles. ‘We will give you a fair deal’ the Polemarch said graciously. After some brief negotiations, the Polemarch and the Deb Rokkhi General left for their camp. Riders were sent to Nisorgo and beyond, to convey the news of the retreat and, at least temporary, respite from the invasion.