Time flew by unnoticed. She couldn't remember when she last shut her eyes. Once, a sea of lamellar swarmed the browning grasslands before the walls of Bil’Faridh. Now wooden towers rose amongst the ocean of torches, ruining the soil of the grassless plains. They spilled blood thanks to Jun’s initial tests, dark Tamers appearing from the shadows to lessen their numbers before the genuine attacks came. But the palace guards and herself were ready. Whenever a brazier upon the lynx wall dimmed, her khopesh swung at the morphing shadows. Blood flowed on both sides.
Nadiyya was warm, violent blood coursed through her limbs. One of the emperor’s Tamers reached her, and proved to be a decent opponent for a fraction, before palace guards swarmed her.
The prowess of the mysterious, ornately armed palace guard filled her ears since she was a child in the streets of Bil’Faridh. They never left the palace then, but their reputation held no such restrictions. A doubtful girl in those days, yet once she rose high enough to see them, that quickly changed.
Stories were rarely trustworthy, and there were plenty of snot-nosed liars amongst her, as well as ambitious Tamers in training. Though when they crossed her path on the rare occasion, and despite their open friendliness beneath ornate helms, Nadiyya found herself awe-filled.
Now on the walls during the first attacks, they proved their skill true many times over. It was their numbers, especially amongst the dark Tamers in the order, that ultimately worked against them. The attacks stretched them thin, though it was nice to be aware at all times during the night. Even if it was draining.
Jun was far from the madman everyone believed him to be. She half believed it over the years, who wouldn’t after the ceaseless reminders from everyone spreading it. She saw rage in his eyes. Instability, of course, and nearly all directed at Gawahir.
No, it’s nothing, not that. Nadiyya was quick to shut down her worry.
The pharaoh clasped the walls and watched over the towering monstrosities growing before them. Chatter and work sounded from the besiegers, as did their flickering lights and blazing campfires. His attack was coming, and she wondered how many they would keep out.
Her eyes rested on the grand tent in the centre of the Tiger’s camp. A flash of brightness or a jewel catching the nearby firelight gave away the guards swarmed around it. Jun’s greying visage filled her mind once again.
He wasn’t too far from her own age. She wasn’t sure whether he might be younger or older, most likely younger. Jun appeared older than she remembered from their last meeting. She expected some change, of course. Losing a wife and child in a brief space of time would shatter most. Still, she struggled to accept the weight on him.
Jun Da was the most eligible of monarchs once, after one visit to Bil’Faridh soon after he became emperor. It began as soon as his father dared to show preference for him over his many other children. The palace was always abuzz with chatter on Jun Da, most connected to the possibility, extremely unlikely, of becoming his partner. When the wondrously attractive, regardless of her outward plainness, Lijuan, strode through grey stone passageways, Great Beast Nadiyya couldn’t recall a more bitter atmosphere within the walls.
“Girl!”
A prickling sensation irritated her left until Pride screamed through their bond. She spun around towards the black cloud hovering above a now cold brazier. Nadiyya freed her khopesh when the woman charged out.
The demonic steel mask was in a permanent grin, slowing her parrying move enough to counter. Nadiyya growled as ice sliced through the opening in her arm, and adjusted against the continued attacks from the Tiger.
Cries of agony and clashing steel sparked all along the wall as she struggled with her own bout. There were roars in the distance. The effort emanating from Pride through their bond was answer enough.
The Tiger forced the pharaoh backwards, winning space for her naginata. Nadiyya avoided the edge of the wall, sparing herself a splash in the Beast’s Tear, only to risk a fall into Bil’Faridh instead.
Nadiyya sacrificed more blood, cutting down the distance between herself and the Tiger. She gritted her teeth against the growing sting, but she finally attacked. A recklessness in her snapped. Pride’s sudden explosion of pain through her bond seared a rage not her own. Her left fist shot outwards into the demonic mask. The Tiger groaned as her bones crumbled beneath her dented mask.
She damaged her own hand; it numbed as she gripped her khopesh with both hands and swung for the horned helm with a scream. She struck true, almost slicing her head in spite of the script strengthening it. The Tiger crumpled to her knees, dazed and ready to collapse. Nadiyya kicked her off the wall and wailed when her shattered hand revealed its ruin.
They robbed her of a moment’s rest as a shadow grew behind. Nadiyya swung around in a panic, shielding with her khopesh against a deathblow of another Tiger. The shocking pain of her broken hand put her off balance and on her back to the Tiger’s mercy. But a palace guard appeared behind the heavy Tiger and dispatched him.
“To safety Pharaoh?”
It was a hulking, armoured Jaguar with a double-bladed battle-axe. The pain in her hand made her slow, slower to notice Pride behind. Stained by more than a dark Bagha’s blood.
Nadiyya gazed out towards the Tigers beyond the walls and saw little change, though it was difficult to focus, with her hand throbbing. Any attempt to shift a finger forced her to bite her tongue until she tasted blood. It was quiet along the walls once more, the chaos a flash, but the fire didn’t return. The odd wail and wounded cry reached her, but not clashing steel.
Pharaoh Nadiyya sheathed her khopesh with a sigh and nodded at the Jaguar. She offered her unencumbered hand and allowed him to tear apart every fibre of her being, calling all the shadows to swirl them both. In a blink, it put her together again as if nothing happened, buckling before the busy doors of a grey building in the lynx district. If it wasn’t for the Jaguar, she would have been on her knees.
“Physician for the pharaoh,” the Jaguar palace guard boomed in the stinking structure. Blood and rent flesh, the onset of rot, the sharp medicinal aroma of poultices, medical liquids and pastes. Only the wailing cries of the wounded sounded as everyone capable looked up at her.
“It’s not urgent, I can wait,” she managed through gritted teeth, her hand worsened its torture. The pain drumming through her shattered hand clawed up to her wrist by now, along with numbness.
Hesitation stilled the physicians until she looked away. Their duties took hold again and a youthful one shuffled towards her with trembling hands.
“How can I be of service, Pharaoh?”
Nadiyya offered her trembling hand, still looking away when he took it with gentle hands. She flinched and her mood dipped when his scent turned fearful.
“My… your greatness, I must bring someone more senior to assist.”
“Very well, outside, please. I need the fresh air.”
Nadiyya collapsed upon a stool the Jaguar brought. Away from the entrance of the makeshift infirmary, where more wounded floated in on litters.
A chill came over her, surging from the thundering pain in her hand. Her teeth chattered by the time the physician returned with a plump woman, another Lion. She wiped her hands with an alcohol scented cloth while rushing towards her. The youth carried a bag chiming with tools and jars.
“Let me take your hand, Pharaoh. Time is of the essence with what I have been told so far.” A featherlike touch, composed.
Pride arrived and lounged nearby, winning a jump from the boy when he noticed the Sinha in the dim light.
“Scissors Nasr,” the woman snapped her fingers at him, and he jumped again as he fumbled through the bag.
“What is it? How bad is it?”
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
“The swelling has begun, fractured, Pharaoh, but to understand the severity, I must remove your glove without doing further damage.”
The boy, Nasr, continued fumbling as Nadiyya yearned for more.
“Nasr Tenen!”
“Forgive me, mistress,” he squealed, producing the dainty tools.
“Nasr Tenen, is it?”
“Yes Pharaoh, if it please you Pharaoh.”
“How fares your brother?” Nadiyya needed a distraction while the cool touch of steel iced her ruined flesh.
“My brother?”
The leather crunched and sliced, then tugged at her shredded flesh, refusing to let go. Nadiyya stifled her anguish into a groan, unable to watch the physician’s handiwork.
“Am I mistaken? Is your brother not Ali Tenen?”
“Oh yes, yes, forgive me Pharaoh. He is, though we have not spoken since he left for Sinh’Chattaan.”
“Blade and forceps Nasr,” the physician interrupted, handing back the scissors.
“Yes, Master Ambra.”
Nadiyya narrowed her eyes at Ambra, racking her agony distracted mind for a hint of recognition.
“Ambra?”
“No second name, Pharaoh,” she rushed matter-of-factly. “I should warn you, separating the ruined flesh from the remnants of your glove will be painful. The blood is already hardening and I may need to be rougher than normal.”
“Get it over with.”
Nasr produced a strap of leather, which Ambra waved away. The pharaoh gritted her teeth and moaned at the first slices. Ambra nodded for Nasr to approach and the boy apologised, often under his breath, as he took hold of her arm. Not that he made much of a difference. She fought not to jerk her arm, at least during the cuts, but when she did, Nasr almost lost his balance.
Her eyes filled with tears she refused to bear, and the gentle breeze seared into the gaping flesh. She shut her eyes even as the cool steel relented, and Ambra’s fingers took over. The physician remained gentle, but suffering her bare fingers over open flesh was excruciating. She yanked Nasr onto a nearby bench.
Nadiyya hissed an apology before strangled into stillness by Ambra’s hand squeezing her wrist. The physician’s Tamer strength proved more effective, though it wasn’t required for long. There was a tingle amongst the pain, a gentle numbing failing to soften the torturous rubbing.
“The damage is not irreversible, but healing will be painful. I advise the leather strap. Resetting the displaced and shattered minuscule bones will take longer than usual. Time will ensure perfect mobility returned to your hand.”
Nadiyya nodded, afraid of the pitiful noise that would escape her lips if she parted them. Nasr waved the strap before her, seeking permission, and the pharaoh caught the bleeding gash on his arm.
“Forgive me, boy,” she muttered, before leaving her mouth open for the leather.
Nasr squeaked something akin to acceptance before rushing away. Ambra took a deep breath and Nadiyya braced through her teary-eyed gaze. When the physician’s bare palm landed on her ruined hand, her arm jerked. Then her wail muffled into the leather as a prickling flame danced over the wounds. Bones shifted and scraped back into place, snapping and reforming with torturous precision.
She was lightheaded by the time Ambra released her, yet the drumming of hurt remained. Nadiyya dared a glance down at her hand to see raw, jagged scars littering her dorsal. A few of her once dainty fingers bent awkwardly. While the nail on her smallest finger was half removed, red, but not bleeding.
Pharaoh Nadiyya dabbed at her tears as Ambra wrapped each finger with a sharp smelling, damp silks stinging every pore. While she wrapped her palm, renewed cries and a distant thud from the walls did away with the easing pain.
“Take cover!” someone shouted, but only herself and Ambra glanced up at the walls.
“I thank you, Ambra. It feels as if life returns to my hand.”
“Try not to move it while the sting continues. Keep your fingers straight until your hand feels like ice.”
“As you say,” Nadiyya sniffed, already rushing to mount Pride. “Thank you again.”
“To the wall Pharaoh?” The Jaguar palace guard asked.
Without your blackness, thankfully, she thought to herself.
The man received her nod, and he swarmed himself in a cloud of darkness when Pride darted back towards the towering sandy lynx wall.
Bodies jerked the last of their lifeblood atop the walls. Shafts poked out between gaps of armour. Arrows whistled over the wall, chipping the stonework and pinged off script strengthened armour. One dinged off of her helm and Pride almost threw her off his back.
Pharaoh Nadiyya hid when the wall chipped against the latest volley. One more poor soul suffered an end. Carrying a wailing wounded soldier back towards the gatehouse.
She used the brief lull to eye the besiegers. Five siege towers were brightly lit with torch fire, swarming with archers and crossbows. Nadiyya hid again when another volley began, though no one was open to them. The volley was short-lived, but she waited a moment longer.
A nearby shield caught her eye, and she snatched it up towards the gap. It won a few more loose arrows. Nadiyya tossed it aside. More towers stood arrayed against the walls, reaching the jaguar and tiger walls, though nowhere near as many. The archers of the lynx district crawled into position after she ducked.
“Pharaoh,”
Nadiyya jumped and spun around to face the Jaguar palace guard.
“All three districts are under attack, though it appears their towers are not making any move forward.”
“Is the inkosi holding up?”
“Indeed, his Cheetahs dispersed equally between the three, fortifying the middle of the districts.”
Stability, some calmness, and the tingling in her hand eased somewhat, though she didn’t dare to move her fingers.
“What do I call you?”
“Arno, Pharaoh.”
“Might I ask another task of you?”
“It will be done, Pharaoh.”
“Speak with the inkosi and kumkani, tell them we must burn every bridge between the districts, destroy whatever it takes to keep the fight in our districts.”
“Pharaoh, you will need everyone’s agreement for this to occur. Bil’Faridh is beyond the will of its monarchs.”
“Ask them all.”
“We will do it ourselves.”
She watched him smile within the cloud of darkness, cloaking him. Arno departed with a nod and her attention focused on the gathering archers along the wall. They crawled along the surface of with their bows strung. The odd palace guard crept amongst them, dignified while crouched. Their own monstrous bows were ready.
Nadiyya met everyone’s eyes and mouthed for them to prepare.
“Now!”
The archers all rose as one, stretching their bowstrings and letting fly. Their strings snapped, before the feathers of every flying shaft whistled its violence towards the Tigers upon their towers. For once she caught cries of anguish beyond the Beast’s Tear. The arrows dug into the wood. Only the palace guard struck true, Tamers. She yearned for more of them.
They all lowered on her orders as they nocked their next volley of arrows. A few swift replies from the Tigers nipped away at the Lynxes.
“Volley!”
Nadiyya shouted before the Tigers mustered one of their own, yet far more shrieks sounded atop the walls instead.
“Below!” One of the palace guards shouted, and a line of mantlets masked the crossbows, firing their deceptive bolts up at them.
The back and forth itched her hand for another attack from the emperor’s dark Tamers. She tested her hand left hand and found stiffness amongst the subtle pain. Adequate for now, the ranged combat was frantic for bursts, then relentless.
Not until the first spark of morning, she awoke from her concentration, hammered by fatigue. Finally, the arrow trade ended, and the Tigers departed their siege towers. She returned to the gatehouse to wash away the annoying lethargy.
Golden palace guards took the place of their dark brethren, nodding their greetings when she passed them. The stench of blood and death haunted her until the solace of the lynx gatehouse.