The Prophet could not watch as the first line of Teljuks reached the second gate and began pouring through. Nege couldn’t face it, couldn’t look at the emperor he’d abandoned. Yet there he stood on the empire’s walls. As he heard the gunfire, cannon fire, and screams of death on both sides, he had no choice but to stare at the magnificent dome of Infinity’s Wisdom and wonder.
It required faith to believe Infinity would come as the salvation to this empire. Thousands had it in this city. It also required faith, faith of a different kind, for Nege to trust in his Sept, trust that this will of Infinity was not the true purpose of mankind.
As he heard the shrieks of pain, curses and cries, cheers and clangs of metal and wood, Nege knelt on his knees and stared at the dome looming on the horizon.
“Hello Infinity,” Nege said, looking away immediately as he said it. Reluctantly, only at the call of death rising behind him, he turned back with his head to the black sky. “I don’t know if I’m supposed to communicate with you, or even if you can hear what I say. I know it goes against every facet of the Prophets to do this. And I know all you care about is peace. That’s why you gave us the weapons. That’s why you gave us the ability to create peace. But is it so wrong to wonder who you are, what you are, what greater purpose this mission of Sevens is for?”
A musket ball burst into the wall beside Nege in a puff of dust. It made Nege laugh as he wiped his watering eyes and ignored the battle raging behind him.
“Were these people wrong?” he continued asking the sky. “Were they so backward? I’ve seen Eternine. He’s a greater man than I ever could be. Why isn’t he your representative? Why do I have to be?”
A massive retort of an explosion signaled that the second gate had been destroyed. Only a few hundred meters of space, and the last regiments of the last legion, remained between the Teljuks and the city they yearned for.
“We are blind. Everyone is blind,” Nege said, and stood, raising his voice and ignoring the guns that erupted in the battle nearing his back. “Sono is blind for thinking the Prophets are perfect! Eternine is blind for thinking you would interfere here! And I’m blind for thinking that I can cause greater good by doing anything when everything I do here will cause only further pain and death. But I’m even more blind because I can’t turn around and see what death and pain my inaction is causing!”
Nege raised his staff in the air, as if its presence closer to the blackness that symbolized the ever-present, insubstantial entity that was Infinity would allow his voice to ring clearer. Holding it there a moment, he listened to the ringing of steel below him and felt the pain in those dying on both sides as if it were his own. With that, he dropped his staff to the floor of the high wall.
“How are we to do what’s good when we don’t even know what that means?” Nege asked the sky.
Struck still by the abnormal silence of those few seconds, Nege could feel nothing but the stinging question in his mind. What brought him out of this trance of doubt was the clear voice of one who had none.
“Together!” Emperor Eternine shouted to his troops.
Lining one side of the gap in the second and first wall to the next, the company of pikes held firm and fast. Eternine pushed forward with his men and called down coordinated strikes from the men shooting above.
The third regiment held in front and stayed strong. For hours they stuck shoulder to shoulder with their tower shields and pikes. “Third rank back!” Eternine shouted above the chaos. “First rank, fourth regiment, fill rank!” Like a shuffling deck of cards, the emperor one by one relieved the ranks of soldiers in the third regiment.
Even when the first few ranks were demolished, exhausted soldiers unable to hold their strength though they killed ten times their own numbers, the fresh soldiers were able to push forward. In a matter of an hour, Eternine had completely made the third and fourth regiments change places, then rushed to the walls to check on the second.
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“Eternine…” Nege said when the emperor approached, running along the walls.
“No time to talk,” the emperor said as he ran past the Prophet, his small stream of bodyguards close behind. The soldiers cheered their emperor as he ran along the walls, his purple cloak a banner in and of itself.
For another hour the emperor directed the battle with the second regiment, at a gap in the northern section of the second wall, till he realized that the third and fourth were quickly falling apart back at the second gate.
Darkness covered his escape as the emperor ran back to join the third and fourth regiment, holding fast against the hordes pressing against them. It was too late for him to turn around again, too late to see the blasts of short-range cannon that had been pulled forward and the ladders and Yanisry that had overwhelmed the now fleeing, quickly annihilated second regiment.
“Men! Truscans!” Eternine shouted as he reached the wall where Nege stood. With a wave of his sword, he redirected men to flow into the proper positions. And with a ferocious roar he inspired his men to press forward. It was just enough. The ranks of the Teljuks were under constant fire from three sides and were losing too many men. They fell back.
“Hold! Hold!” Eternine ordered as he once again reached the ground and approached the forward ranks of his men. “Do not pursue! Fourth regiment, pull back! Third regiment, reform at front!” Precious time lapsed as the Teljuks reformed beyond the second wall, easily able to afford the losses they received from the constant shots from the defenders on those high walls.
In the darkness between the two high walls, the emperor couldn’t see, but could hear the thunder approaching. “Pikes! Front! Hurry!” the emperor shouted.
The thunder quickly gained a form as five thousand Teljuk cavalrymen sped toward the last legion from where the second regiment had been destroyed. Heedless of the losses from bolts and bullets, absorbing the dead in the endless ranks of soldiers, the Teljuks pushed through the gauntlet.
His face serene, calm despite the coming doom, the emperor directed the black pommel of his sword upward and shouted, “Let me hear your cry!”
“Infinity! And Eternine!” the legion shouted as they raised their pikes to the cavalry.
Like a crashing wave on rocks, the horsemen spilled. The front ranks collapsed under the heavy rush and unbreakable push of thousands, falling over top of the soldiers behind them. But the sea of spikes impaled every horse and rider and halted the charge before it could fully press.
It took a full hour for the pikemen to slaughter the cavalry. But Nege knew, as well as Eternine, that this was only meant to be a quick rush to occupy ground and prevent the Truscans from reforming and resting. The rest of the Yanisries had rested, and more of that dwindling division had marched forward. Refreshed, they waited behind the cavalry. Nege felt their eagerness so strongly he envisioned them licking their swords with anticipation.
Before he could reform the fourth regiment in front, before the third regiment could realize an ocean of infantry was charging through the few remaining horsemen, Eternine shouted a too late command to “Hold!”
Yanisries whooping with the prize of glory charged through the darkness and pounced over the dead horses and on top of the Truscan soldiers. They cut halfway through the third regiment, exhausted soldiers unable to hold back the fierce and fresh attackers. But at the cries of their emperor, at the cries to honor their heritage, the Truscans held and hoped that the numbers they cut down, the numbers the men on the walls destroyed, would be enough to frighten away these furious attackers.
“Back to Estia for you! In the name of my forefathers! I am Eternine!” the emperor shouted. “I am the third so-named emperor of the heroes of Trusc! You will not take my city while I stand. You will not take my faith in Infinity!” Eternine’s shouts caused the Teljuks around him to panic, stagger, and step back. Smiling, Nege saw Eternine turn to say something to his men. “Men of Trusc! Your emperor and…” As if in answer to his shouts, a Teljuk musket man fired and hit the emperor in the side, the musket ball bursting in the gap between his breastplate and breeches.
The shot came from the second wall. And the Teljuk marksman was quickly dispatched by a countercharge from the Truscans defending the ramparts. Finally having brought their ladders to the walls in enough force, the Teljuks had gained ground on the walls themselves and were pushing against the vital marksmen who’d threatened the attack on the ground.
Nege watched as time froze. The emperor went to his knees, clutching his bleeding side. As if drunk, he turned his head up, down, unable to focus on the men dying around him. The Prophet’s eyes widened as the emperor fell forward, and placed his fist out to stop his descent before he collapsed.