Desert Rat (2)
Between Alepa and Antica stretched a wasteland of sand and gravel.
Life was scarce on this barren expanse, save for patches of grass and the occasional traveler crossing the desert. Yet even here, people eked out an existence.
The nomads.
These wanderers roamed the desolate land, tending their herds. During the rainy season, when grass sprouted, they grazed their livestock in imperial territory. In the dry season, they crossed the border into the Tilrit Desert, beyond the empire's reach.
As a result, the empire's grip on the nomads was tenuous at best.
Controlling the borders to regulate their movements might have worked, but the legions had long lost the strength for that. With reduced manpower and budgets, they struggled just to hold fixed bases and border forts.
Given the circumstances, the nomads held the empire in contempt. The banditry that plagued the desert stemmed from this very disdain.
But an outright assault on the imperial army itself, like this incident? That was rare. This time, we couldn't let it slide.
I marched toward the oasis of Pant—site of the raid—with the two thousand troops I'd brought from Antica.
Pant lay along the imperial highway linking Alepa and Antica, a frequent stop for caravans and grain transports.
"That's Pant, Your Excellency."
The provincial secretary traveling with us pointed it out.
I scowled at the sight of the oasis sprawled before us.
The perimeter was a mess of charred watchtowers and tents, scattered corpses pecked at by vultures and jackals.
I ordered the men to drive off the scavengers and dismounted.
"Completely razed."
Surveying the half-burned wagons, I frowned again.
The caravan had been small, but the signs of the raid suggested at least two hundred nomads. Two hundred cavalry. No force to take lightly.
"Your Excellency, there are hoofprints leading east."
Rikius, who'd scouted the oasis perimeter, reported back.
"No effort to cover their tracks."
Bold bastards. Then again, even if the empire knew of the raid, we weren't in a position to respond. They could act openly without fear.
Still, they were underestimating us.
I remounted.
"Secretary."
"Yes, Your Excellency."
"Any nomad campsites east of Pant?"
"There's a rock valley forty kilometers east."
"Rock valley?"
"Yes. One of the few spots to escape the heat. Word is, nomads use it as a base."
"We'll check there first. Rikius!"
"Yes."
"Take point. We're heading to the rock valley."
"Understood."
We rode straight for the rock valley east of Pant.
Along the way, we spotted countless footprints. The nomads were definitely holed up there.
After half a day's ride across the barren plain, we reached a valley flanked by massive rock formations. The rock valley was a narrow cleft between towering crags.
I dismounted and scanned the entrance.
It was fortified from the outset. Clear proof this raid wasn't some spur-of-the-moment whim.
The upper slopes bristled with wooden railings, manned by catapults and archers.
Below, palisades blocked intruders without a gap.
'Like a fortress.'
Surveying it, I became convinced Ersia was involved. That meant we couldn't ignore them. If they were a cog in Ersia's military operations, they'd pose a greater threat down the line.
But attacking that stronghold with our current numbers? Impossible.
'Time for a ruse. Draw them out instead of assaulting the fort directly.'
I settled on a simple ploy.
If the nomads' mission was to disrupt the empire's "rear supply lines," baiting them would be easy.
I withdrew from the rock valley with my troops.
Setting up camp at Pant, I dispatched a rider to the Egyptian province requesting empty wagons, since the nomads had destroyed our grain shipment.
I stressed the exact time and place for delivery.
The provincial governor complied, assembling the convoy.
As the grain wagons departed Alepa, we broke camp at Pant and feigned a retreat north.
But it was a feint. Under cover of night, we circled back and hid in a dry wadi near the rock valley.
The nomads took the bait, as expected. Scouts spotted the wagons near Pant, and their main force emptied the valley.
Thud-thud-thud-thud.
I timed their departure as nomad cavalry kicked up dust storms fleeing the valley.
By the time they reached Pant, we'd have half a day's lead on their main body.
That window was enough to storm the empty valley, seize it, and force their surrender.
No matter how fearless, they'd yield if their women, children, and base fell into our hands.
Judging them far enough away, I vaulted onto my horse.
As I mounted, the Antican legionaries, Egyptian guards, and Praetorians followed suit. I turned to them, drew my sword, and bellowed.
"Today, we teach these barbarians who dared challenge the empire a harsh lesson. With blood and tears, they will learn the empire's golden eagle bows to no one!
Sons of the eagle! Raise your swords high. Let the enemy taste the empire's wrath!"
"Long live Imperator Ain!"
I lowered my blade and nodded to Rikius. He hoisted the emperor's golden eagle standard and charged ahead.
"Advance!"
With thunderous hoofbeats, we surged from the wadi.
Pwaaaaaa!
A few nomads belatedly spotted us and blew horns. Too late.
Their main force was too far gone. We were at their doorstep.
"Enemies!"
Nomads shouted, scrambling to defend. Archers—likely Ersian—nocked arrows in haste.
"Straight to the palisades."
I shouted to Rikius.
We couldn't vault them from horseback, but closing fast then leaping over would do. In the chaos, archers loosed arrows wildly.
Whissh. Ping.
Arrows whistled past me. I batted away those in plain sight with my sword. Long-range shots lost speed, making it feasible.
As we charged, a few nomads rushed to the palisades, spears in hand. With enough defenders, the terrain favored them a hundred-to-one. But they were shorthanded.
We roared into the valley mouth.
"Waaaaah!"
Overwhelmed by our battle cry, some even dropped weapons and fled.
Raiders with no real army experience couldn't face massed foes.
Numerous comrades might have held them, but we held the numbers now.
Boom!
A catapult stone smashed into the ground, kicking up sand.
'Too late.'
If they'd anticipated us, they'd have fired at range. Firing only as we closed? Pointless.
We leaped from our horses and stormed the palisades.
"Raaah!"
Rikius slammed into the barrier. Our troops piled on, shoving. Unguarded, it toppled easily.
Krraaang!
As it collapsed, we poured into the valley with cheers. Caves carved into soft sandstone dotted the walls, sheltering women and children.
I left them be and sent men up the stairs to the upper valley.
Our troops charged yelling; archers panicked, some hurling bows away.
We drove the archers down and neutralized the catapults.
The defenses were formidable, but undermanned. As we wrapped up, Rikius dragged a young man in nomad garb before me.
"Kneel."
The man dropped to his knees. I perched on a rock, glaring coldly.
"Are you the leader here?"
"Yes."
Rikius stomped his back, face-planting him in the sand.
I raised a hand; Rikius relented.
"No manners. I am Ain, commander of the Praetorian Guard. You're in no position to address me so casually, barbarian. Speak out of turn again, and your women and children in those caves answer for it."
He bit his lip, head bowed.
"My apologies."
"Good. So you're the leader here?"
"Yes."
"You look too young for a tribal chieftain. Who are you, exactly?"
I asked curiously. He hesitated, then spoke.
"The Fourteenth Prince of Ersia."
"Fourteenth Prince? What?"
I nodded—then froze at the bombshell.
"Fourteenth Prince? You dare lie?"
Rikius reached for his sword.
I stopped him with a gesture.
"Is that true?"
"It is. Why lie now?"
Fair point. With war declared on Ersia, a prince's status offered no protection—only peril.
I crossed my arms.
"What’s a fourteenth prince doing out here?"
"I'm a discarded pawn."
"Son of the old king, not the new?"
"Yes."
The Fourteenth Prince answered readily.
"So you crossed the border to rack up merits?"
"Something like that. It's the only way to beg my brothers for my life."
"But your force seemed ragtag. Just nomads, right?"
He gave a wry smile.
"They're not locals—from eastern Panetal. Elite cavalry, trained for the Parthian shot."
Parthian shot.
Good thing we hadn't met them in open battle. Our horsemen would've been slaughtered before drawing steel.
But the strongest army is useless without a fight.
"You came prepared, then. This fortress too. Not just any discarded pawn."
He shook his head.
"In Ersia, you earn favor in full-scale war. Petty rear actions yield no rewards. Coming here marks me as expendable."
"I see."
As we spoke, hoofbeats thundered from the far valley. The nomad cavalry was returning.
I stood.
"Your Excellency, enemy cavalry inbound."
I nodded, eyeing the prince.
"One question. With you and the women and children as hostages, will your men surrender?"
He shook his head.
"These women and children are local nomad families. No leverage over the cavalry. Even me—same story."
"Meaning?"
"Panetal nomads swear loyalty to the Ersian king. If I order surrender, they'll brand me traitor and shoot."
I gave a bitter laugh.
"Out of calculations."
Hostages worthless. The fight just got longer.
(To be continued)