East of Ashes (22 page)

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Authors: Gideon Nieuwoudt

BOOK: East of Ashes
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Looking to his left and right, he could barely make out the pockets of soldiers as they huddled in their positions in front of the gate. Their deathly silence further enhanced their ghostlike appearance.

 

Lamech was as nervous as c
ould
be. If the princes hadn't issued strict orders not to make a sound, he would probably have been chatting to Othniel to take his mind off things. But he didn't fancy being executed on the spot for breaking the silence.

 

To keep his shield from rattling against his armour, he had momentarily placed it on the ground behind him. His hands tremor
ed slightly
from the anticipation and he didn't trust himself to hold the shield tightly without making a sound.

 

"
Oh Lord, I'm afraid
," Lamech prayed without thinking. He realised with a shock what he was doing, but for some reason he didn't want to stop. So he closed his eyes and continued, every fibre of his being focussed on the quiet words in his mind.

 

"
It's been a very long time since I've felt anything but rage. But these last few months I've begun to rediscover a range of emotions that I had thought long gone. Fear is one of them - fear of dying. And that's as startling to me as anything."

 

"I guess what I'm trying to say
,
Lord
,
is that I no longer wish to die - at least not like this. I know this is the first time I've spoken to You like this, so forgive me if I'm being presumptuous, but I want to ask that You'll protect me today. Please bring me through this safely
."

 

As the last quiet words lost form in his mind, what felt like a hand came to rest on his shoulder. Lamech opened his eyes and looked around, but there was nobody there. Huddled next to him, Othniel's eyes were also closed, no doubt praying himself.

 

The sensation was very brief, but somehow Lamech knew what it had been. The realisation sent shivers through him, but he also experienced immense peace. The anticipation was still there, but it no longer felt like his heart was being clenched in an iron grip.

 

He looked up at the walls of Antioch as the sun began to stain the edges of the mountain with crimson. He had known the previous morning that he was standing on the edge of something extraordinary. In what way, he was still not entirely sure. But he instinctively knew that after this day, he would never be the same again.

 

 

 

-------

 

 

 

Firuz was still standing on the wall just outside of the tower, his brother at his side. The moment the dawn began, he sprang into action. He beckoned his brother to follow him and began walking to the tower where the rest of his team was sleeping.

 

Right now there were five of them snoring away in drunken stupors. Normally they would have
been
keeping extremely vigilant watch over the Crusader camp, always expecting a dawn attack. But as their commander, Firuz had told them to celebrate as much as they
had
wanted.

 

 Firuz positioned himself next to one of the best of his soldiers and pointed his brother to one of the others. His brother was trembling, his eyes glistening in the faint light, but he obeyed. For a moment Firuz was filled with doubt again, but then pushed it away.
It's too late to turn away now,
he thought grimly.

 

He looked down at the snoring soldier, then took out his knife and slit his throat in one quick move. The man's eyes popped open in terror and he clawed at his gurgling throat. But his death throes went unobserved as Firu
z
promptly moved on to the next soldier.

 

After finishing off the third soldier, he turned around and saw his brother standing
,
waiting for him, his eyes now clearly filled with tears. In his hand he held his knife, glistening red as gurgling sounds slowly died down behind him.

 

Firuz walked over to him, gave his shoulder a squeeze and then went to check whether the soldiers were indeed dead. Satisfied that none of them would ever move again, he lifted the coverings off a crate in the corner and took out a long coil of rope that he had
hidden
there
earlier
.

 

Despite the shock that he must
have
be
en
in, his brother had already taken his place at the tower door, looking for signs that their treasonous act had been noticed by the others. After a few moments he turned around and nodded
to
Firuz.

 

Firuz leaped into motion and walked out onto the wall. He tied the rope around a sturdy flagpole and then threw the rest over the edge.

 

 

 

-------

 

 

 

Lamech had watched the Caracen soldier securing the rope to the wall, wondering what could drive a man to commit treason.
Surely he must know what w
il
l happen
to him
?
Whatever his reasons, Lamech hoped they were good ones.

 

The moment the soldier dropped the rope over the wall, Lamech and the rest of the advance party began moving. Each of them grabbed part of the ladder and in unison they ran towards the wall.

 

Unbeknownst to them, in the small bushes behind them a shield lay forgotten.

 

They had to move quickly because they were inevitably making a noise now. Keeping absolutely quiet wasn't a priority anymore. Instead the key was to get onto that wall, clear the ramparts and open the gate before the majority of the Caracen army could mobilise.

 

Lamech and Othniel were in the front of their column. As they ran towards the wall they were the most exposed. Their job was to secure the ladder to the rope and, once it had been pulled up, to then anchor it in the ground while the rest climbed up.

 

Reaching the wall they grabbed the rope, quickly tied it to the ladder and gave the rope a tug. Immediately the Antiochian traitor began pulling it up. When finished, Lamech and Othniel grabbed the sides of the ladder and held on tightly as the others scrambled up.

 

In their nervous haste, the Crusaders didn't give each other enough spacing and the ladder was quickly overloaded. Looking up Lamech could see the ladder shaking violently with the soldiers' movement.

 

Before he could hiss a word of warning though, the ladder toppled. To their credit, the Crusaders didn't scream as they plummeted to their deaths. Lamech closed his eyes involuntarily as they crashed to the ground in a broken pile.

 

That would wake the Caracens up, Lamech thought and dashed to grab the ladder. Othniel clearly had the same thought as he was at Lamech's side in an instant and together they shook the ladder free from the dead bodies and lifted it up against the wall.
We
'll mourn the dead later
, Lamech thought
,
as they strained to get the heavy ladder in place.

 

The moment the ladder was propped up again, one of the remaining soldiers began climbing up. Lamech didn't wait for the others but began following him the moment he had cleared the bottom ranks. Four soldiers grabbed the bottom of the ladder and held it steady as they climbed.

 

Above him Lamech could hear commotion as Caracen soldiers ran towards them. Fortunately the alarm bells hadn't rung yet which meant they still ha
d
time, but only just.

 

The soldier above him disappeared over the wall. In moments Lamech reached the top, just in time to see the Crusader being cut down by a Caracen defender, who turned around and began shouting for help. Lamech climbed onto the edge of the wall and flung himself at the soldier, bearing him to the ground. He rolled onto his feet and drove his sword through the soldier's belly.

 

Reaching for his shield on his back, it was only then that he realised it was not there. He swore loudly and then had to step back to parry the blow from another defender. Without his shield he had to move twice as quick
ly
to use his sword as both a defensive and offensive tool, but he managed to get the upper hand over his opponent. As he dispatched him, he could see a column of soldiers charging towards them from the other tower.

 

Behind him
,
Othniel and two other soldiers had already cleared the ladder and took their places next to him. Together they braced to keep the Caracens away from the ladder as the rest of the Crusader party climbed over the wall and dashed towards the gate.

 

 

 

-------

 

 

 

Things were not going well for Firuz. After pulling up the ladder, he and his brother had dashed back to the tower, waiting for the inevitable alarm to sound. But then the Crusaders had overloaded the ladder, causing it to crash to the ground with a resounding noise.

 

There was nothing else they could do but to rush back to the rope and help pull the ladder back up again. By the time the ladder was secured, he could hear some of the city's defenders calling out to each other and rushing to this part of the wall.

 

He couldn't very well stay where he was though, as only Bohemond knew him to be a friend to the Crusaders. The rest of them would cut him and his brother to pieces before he had time to explain.

 

H
e had to find some place for them to hide.

 

Grabbing his brother by the arm, he ran back to the tower. Where could they hide? Should they play dead and wait for it to all be over? Although cowardly, that would probably be the best.

 

"We have to play dead!" he shouted at his brother, frantically looking for the best place.

 

"Help me move these bodies away from the wall! We can hide behind them."

 

He grabbed one of the soldiers by the leg and started heaving at the dead weight. After a few moments of struggling alone, he stopped and turned around. His brother was staring at him with horror in his eyes.

 

"Come on! Help me or we're dead!"

 

His brother didn't say anything, but slowly started backing away from him. Firuz gaped at him - he was heading back towards where the Crusaders were piling over the wall. Already he could hear them fighting furiously. Looking over his brother's shoulder he could see four soldiers holding off a column of city defenders while the rest headed their way.

 

"No!" he screamed as his brother turned around and fled, straight into the oncoming Crusaders. Thinking he was attacking them, the Crusaders didn't even stop but simply cut him to pieces and continued onwards.

 

Firuz fell to his knees, sobbing. He looked up as the first Crusader reached him. In the man's eyes a mad fire was burning, bloodlust etched in his face. The soldier lifted his sword up and swung it down in one powerful stroke.

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