“The militia are like thugs! They are barely paid and poorly trained and mannered. They are little more than a dog running alongside the Imperial garrison!”
Faraj shook his own head in return and slapped the flat of his palm on the table.
“No more. From the morning, the militia are the only army and navy M’Dahz has! All of those bodyguards, ex-limitani and pensioned soldiers in the town are joining tomorrow. We have to change the militia. We have to make it a force capable of holding off both Pelasia and the pirates until the Empire can heal its wounds and breathe life back into the port and markets of the town. There is nothing else. It is decided. Tomorrow I leave with the militia. We will be active by both land and sea and likely always busy, but I shall return as often as the Gods grant me the opportunity to see my family.”
The boys were both crying now and, despite her familial distance and the likelihood that her father could easily shift his business interests to Calphoris, Asima found that she was weeping openly for what would happen to Faraj and the brothers.
Their uncle straightened.
“I must do this. Though I will be torn from this household, I must go in order to protect it, so that there is still a house to return to when everything recovers.”
Brushing back the tears, Ghassan was the first to straighten and nod, bravely.
“We are too young to join you, uncle. I realise that. But you have trained us well and we will continue to learn and practice in your absence. And if the trouble persists until we are a little older and the militia will accept us, then we will come to stand by you.”
Faraj glanced at their mother’s horrified face and her open mouth and quickly cut her off before she could speak.
“This will be over long before then, so make no unnecessary promises. I am pleased that you are both strong, quick, and bright, and can take care of yourselves and your mother, and even young Asima here if she requires it. Survive and stay out of danger so that we can be together again when the next Emperor sends his forces to save us.”
Samir nodded.
“We will, uncle.”
Silence fell over the room once again and was finally broken when their mother addressed the children in a small and cracked voice.
“Will you go to your room and leave me with Faraj for a time? I will call you when I have prepared the dinner.”
Nodding unhappily, Asima and the two boys untangled themselves and plodded slowly up the stairs to their room. Once inside, they could hear the inevitable explosion of tears and wailing from below before the door shut. Samir turned and looked at the others.
“You know what this means?”
Asima nodded.
“My father will move out in a matter of days and we will head to Calphoris. If we ever see each other again, it will be when this is all over and my father returns, if he even does that. I fear that we only ever stayed in M’Dahz because the place reminds him of my mother.”
She dropped to her knees on one of the blankets.
“I can’t leave M’Dahz. I don’t want to live anywhere else. I don’t want to move, and I don’t want to leave you.”
She wasn’t entirely sure at whom that last was aimed, but the brothers both nodded sagely. Samir was the first to break the silence that followed, as he sat next to her and took her hand.
“Whatever happens is uncertain. Only the Gods know what lays ahead, not us. But the three of us are bound by bonds stronger than any empire, and I tell you now that we will be together for many years to come.”
Suddenly Ghassan was sat at the far side, holding her other hand.
“Samir is right. We have braved injury and even death many times together, and we are here now, stronger than ever. If you go to Calphoris, then we will just have to come and find you when the time is right.”
Asima snuffled gently. She had begun to cry and was trying desperately to hold back the tears. And despite everything that had just happened, a world shattered into chaos, a future cast to the winds and a loved one to be ripped away from them, something deep inside her, that she was not sure she liked, felt a solid satisfaction that both boys were clinging to her as though their life depended on her.
In which the field is levelled
The past two days had been chaos in M’Dahz. The military garrison had pulled out with no ceremony, merely collecting everything of value from their barracks in the palace compound, hauling it onto their backs, and setting off along the dusty road east to Calphoris. That was the day after the news broke like a wildfire across the town. That same day, the Imperial navy abandoned anything that did not belong on board their ships, hauled anchor and sailed north, accompanied by every merchant who had managed to liquidise his assets in time.
The town was already beginning to collapse. The militia had been called to the palace, where the local governor was on the verge of panic. The man had been sent by the Imperial government many years ago and, though subordinate to the Provincial governor at Calphoris, had sole control and responsibility for M’Dahz, its port, military, all local settlements, trading stations and border patrol units. When he had arrived as an eager young politician, it had been a dream appointment for a pasty northern youth. Now, as a middle-aged and slightly portly gentleman, the position had suddenly become a disaster with vast responsibility for the lives of many innocents and no power or hope.
The governor had given the militia their orders with a note of sadness. He had spent hours during the night trying to allocate the meagre resources he was left with to control the trade routes, the town and the Pelasian border and had been left with an inescapable truth: he barely had enough men to control M’Dahz itself. The militia were to abandon the border, the desert roads and any outlying settlements. Split into two groups, one unit would begin to restore the city defences, tearing down houses to clear the walls of obstructions and building makeshift barricades where the lines of defence had long gone. The other unit would commandeer the six vessels that belonged to absent foreign merchants and that remained in port and form a navy to protect those few who still had mercantile interests here. M’Dahz lived on trade and, if they could secure safe sea routes to the port, they could perhaps entice some of the other traders to return. Then, and only then, could they turn to protecting and building the desert trade links once more.
It was an ambitious plan, and almost certainly doomed to failure.
Faraj had been assigned to the navy and had embarked on a ship named the Pride of Serfium, heading out to his new career with a sad wave at the children standing at the port with their mother, jostled by the crowds of desperate folk seeking a safe way out of M’Dahz.
Already the markets were empty and many doors and windows hung open, the buildings abandoned as the inhabitants fled the perilous border region for the relative safety of the provincial capital of Calphoris. In just two days the life had left M’Dahz.
Asima hammered on the door of her father’s study. There had been a great deal of crashing and thumping half an hour ago and then the house had slid into an ominous silence.
“Father?”
It had taken some time for Asima to pluck up the courage to knock. Her father was a serious man, disapproving of his child when she spoke out of place, but now she was worried.
“Father, are you alright?”
Her heart beating fast, the young girl leaned close to the door and placed her ear by the lock. The key was in the door at the other side. She could perhaps push the key out, but there was no gap at the bottom of the door, so that would hardly achieve anything.
She could hear no noise from within; just the background sounds of the town coming in through the room’s only window, sounds of despair and desperation. But gradually, as she listened, she could pick out other sounds; faint sounds from within.
