“W-what’s that!?” yelled out the guard, glancing into the darkness. Tonight was a an early crescent moon, making it harder to examine the faint movements under the absent light.

“Oi, are you stupid?” asked his senior. “There’s nothing there!”

“I see shadows movi—

A slap on the back jolted the fibres in his skin as he jumped, then twisted in astonishment.

The skinny man turned. “What was that for?”

“You’ve been tense since the garrison sortied into the forest, so, I just struck ya to loosen you up, ” he said, sounding all too friendly.

“B-but I see people!”

“What do you mean?” The senior man glanced off the wall. “I see nothing.”

“You’re bloody old!”

“Hey!”

Another smack, this time in the shoulder.

“I may be in my fifties, but there’s no way in hell I’m losing my eyesight so early.”

“How is being in your fifties early? Both my parents died when they were entering their forties!”

The young man stared at the ground, watching as many dark blobs gathered from the forest.

“I’m telling you, there are people here!”

“HM.” His senior faced him, looking dissatisfied. He then turned to face the forest.

“Whoever goes there, show yourselves! Now!”

They’re still moving… He could see the figures abruptly stopping.

“Does the kid have delusions again?” shouted a nearby guard, chuckling. “First it was the East gate, now the South?”

“You bloody fool, there’s nothing the—

The man’s voice faltered.

Turning to his side, the young man hadn’t noticed the arrow pierced through the man’s throat.

“Hello there,” said a voice in the thick darkness, blasted through a horn. “Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition.”

“ENEMY!” The boy shouted, triggering a storm of creaks and cracks along the walls and stairs. “ENEMY AT THE SOUTH GATE!”

Param could hear the mutterings of the guards at the top of the city walls. It seemed they had a better time talking than they did defending.

He signaled the two dozen men to follow him, slowly creeping their way until they reached the wall.

“ENEMY AT THE SOUTH GATE!”

Param glanced upwards, watching the scurrying torchlights wander into the darkness around. “It seems like Bhagat’s distracting them.”

He turned to his men. “Feel the ground under you, there should be a hollow sound. That should be the hidden entrance.”

“Param, is this it?”

Param slowly approached the man, who pulled out a grass layer on a wooden frame.

“Yes, that’s it.”

Param stared at the hole below them and raised a brow.

“What’s wrong?”

“Someone’s been here.” Param gave the men a look. “When we’ve dug out the hole and get into the crypt, you’d better watch yourselves. There’s no telling who came here and for what purpose.”

“So, I’ll be frank with you guys,” began Bhagat, positioning the horn between his lips. “We’ve got like 3000 guys here. I know for a fact that there are probably less than 700 of you guarding this city now.”

“So what!” Shouted the garrison commander. “You’ll lose enough men by the end of this fight. Sides, we’ve got reinforcements coming by the afternoon.”

“Yikes. Imagine thinking you can hold a city by the afternoon.”

“The fuck is that suppose to mean?”

“The fuck do you think it means you retard,” countered Bhagat. “Anyways, since you don’t seem all too willing to leave the city, I’d suggest you give the peasants until dawn to leave with their belongings.”

“And why should I?”

“Because there shouldn’t be unnecessary casualties,” said Bhagat, raising his voice. “Sides, you wouldn’t want Sudhists to kill you from behind now would you?”

A silence swept the conversation.

“Fine then, we’ll them let leave before dawn.”

“Good.”

Bhagat turned to the crowd behind him.

“You,” he said, pointing at a young man. “Send a message to Dunda. We’re going to kill these fuckers at dawn.”

“That took a good hour,” said Param. Crawling wasn’t something he enjoyed, especially so if it was an hour long trip to the destination.

Param shook his head. It was merely the beginning.

Climbing along the tunnel, the men made their way into the crept. It was a cold place, encased in stone and suffocated for air. The bright mesh of torchlight radiated from the ends of the room, but nowhere else.

It felt like a realm of it’s own. Along both sides were urns containing the ashes of the Gahkhar family’s deceased, resting on short columns in between pillars that supported the rooms structure.

“Do you hear that Param?” asked a man lowly.

“Yes, I do.” Param glanced around the corner, spotting a figure in the distance of what seemed like an endless room.

Param approached it, extending out his hand.

A hollow structure.

Bones.

“Those bastards…”

Param could feel the tension in his skin wrap around him as he stared at the remnants. “Those bloody bastards…”

“How could they do this…. here?”

“Those bastards and their bloody rituals.”

“They are mad and cruel. They have no sympathy for an animal.”

The men took turns whispering their disgust.

Param caressed the bones.

“Will will make them pay,” he said, his voice growing colder. “We will make them all pay. First they kill an animal to spite us, then they dump it’s body to rot…”

A hand rested firmly on Param’s shoulder.

“Relax Param, justice will be served after we win this battle.”

“Look at this!” Param pointed, his finger jabbing the air. “What gives them the right to use this room to commit such vile acts! And using this sacred place as a bloody animal pen?”

“It is wrong,” answered the warrior. “But we must first win this battle to serve justice.”

Param loosened the grip on his hand.

“You’re right.”

Param took deep breaths, trudging around the dried blood. He stared upwards, towards the stairs where a faint light radiated.

“Let’s go.”

He slowly stepped along the stairs, his men in tow.

A single torchlight radiated by the dark oak doors, the flickering lights creating wild shadows right next to them.

Param glanced at his.

Large yet slender —the heads all stretched and hands flat— like it was the beast hidden within him, it’s anger seeping leaking from his soul.

“Someone pour water over that light,” he whispered.

“I’ll do it,” answered the warrior next to him. He gently took the torch off it’s metal connector and lowered it to the edge of the step. Another crouched and, taking out his skin, poured water over the torch. A hiss rang out before subsiding.

The smoke was the smell of burnt wood. A smell all too familiar.

“On my mark, I’m going to open this door.”

“Yes sir.”

“3.”

His heart began racing.

“2.”

His muscles tensed.

“1.”

He could feel his throat grow dry, growing more aware of his surroundings.

“Let’s go.”

Off in the distance, Bhagat could see the end of the trail of city dwellers leave with their baggage. Glancing at a family, a haunting feeling crept into his soul. A mother carried her two babies. The man beside her carried all their cookware and blankets. This wasn’t an isolated event, for almost all the women and men left like this, one carrying the luggage and the other the toddlers and babies. There was nobody left to defend them.

“Everyone!” shouted Bhagat, turning to face his battle-hardened men. “I want 500 of you protecting those peasants.”

The men raised their brows.

“Why?” asked one of them. “Won’t that weaken us?”

“Besides young master, if we take the city the—”

“There’s no telling if we can take the city in time.” He said, wiping down his face. “Sides, peasants are meant to be protected. It’s our duty.”

He glanced back at the caravan. “Especially if their own lord can’t bother handling it.”

He faced the three regiments standing in square formation.

“You.” He pointed to the corner at a scarred man who seemed a little taller than the rest.

“Me?” he asked, his voice gravely.

“Yes you.”

The man shuffled his way and stood before Bhagat. He was much larger than Bhagat had thought.

“What is your name?”

“Meethi.”

“Meethi… huh, that name really suits you.”

“Thank you young master.”

“Meethi, here’s your task,” said Bhagat. “You’ll lead this regiment to protect that caravan.”

A wave of thoughts morphed the man’s face. First he frowned, then he recovered his poker face, then he frowned again.

“Alright young master, if you wish.”

“Thank you friend,” he said, patting the man’s arm. “Make haste, the peasants are already marching. I suspect they’re traveling towards the nearest town.”

“Alright.” Meethi turned to take a good look at the regiment. “Let’s go men!”

“Yes sir!”

Bhagat moved out of the way, allowing Meethi’s regiment to pass and join the caravan. It took perhaps a good 30 minutes for them to disappear under the darkness of night.

“There were only five guys around there?” Param glanced around some more as the men opened the gate. “What the fuck? No one’s even manning the inner walls.”

“Perhaps the assault has started?”

“Maybe…” Param glanced towards the sprawling city. “A lot of people left as well so the least they’d expect is a revolt from within. Sides, we need to act fast to clear a way for Bhagat to get through the south gate.”

The men quietly turned the corner on the gravel street, making sure not to draw suspicion from any of the guards left who were still keen on watching the streets.

“Let’s go.”

Together they walked about the deserted city streets, their feet creating low sounds from the pressing of their boots on the gravel.

“Alright, so heres the plan.” Param said, turning is neck. “We’re going to split into two groups and ta—”

“Hey!” said a hushed voice, eerily suppressed.

Param turned leftwards. A man had his head poking out through the door.

“Come here!”

Param felt his arms stiffen.

A trap? He wrapped his fingers around the grip of his talwaar.

“The man’s a bit of a cautious one when his surroundings demand it,” said a calm voice. The man pulled back his head and in place was a woman’s, beaming with some kind of delight. “Hello Param, I never thought I’d see you here now of all times.”

Rather than relaxing, his arms stiffened further, though he made sure to take his hands off his blade lest he wanted to attract attention.

“Aabna, why’re you here?”

“Ah,” she replied cheerfully. “I came to Gahkhpur to relax of course.”

Param entered the building and motioned his men to join him.

“What do you mean by tha—

He lowered his voice when he saw the men who had assembled. There seemed to be four dozen others with weapons of their own hidden under their cloaks like Param and his men.

“I thought Bhagat would send in men, but I never expected two dozen!” She beamed, though that gave Param more chills. “He’s much more bold than he was before.”

“Well… yes… he’s changed…” Param didn’t really know if it was a good idea to talk about Bhagat’s transformation, but now wasn’t the time either. “But Aabna, what are you planning? You never told us anything about this!”

“Let’s chat later, for now…” She pulled a map from a nearby drawer. “We have Afraaris to kill. And we’ve got to kill them all before dawn comes.”

“Fuck,” whispered Bhagat, glancing at the swarming torchlights on the city walls in the early dawn light. “I guess we can’t wait for Param after all.”

He looked behind him, finding the many men prepared and hardened for combat.

Do I start it now? Every moment of indecision was costing him time.

“God help me.” Bhagat stared at the grand walls of Gahkhpur. He unsheathed his sword, the metal ringing out and joining the clanging shields. “Remember the plan!”

“For Lohaan!” shouted a man at the top of his lungs.

“For Lohaan!” joined the other 1000 voices, ringing Bhagat’s ears.

A sea of footsteps swarmed his ears as his men charged for the walls.

In the next moment the enemy warhorn blew loudly from the high wall. Torchlight swarmed around like fireflies in the fading darkness. Was the enemy flustered?

An arrow whizzed past Bhagat and landed straight into someone. A silent scream rang out, overshadowed by the waves of groans and shouts that came from the other wounded.

“Fucking hell.” This would be much tougher than expected.

Advance squadrons charged with ladders over their heads and flanking squadrons formed shield walls to protect them from above.

Another volley. This time a few of the men crumpled to the ground, arrows pierced through their legs or arms.

Bhagat ran to a man whose blood formed rivers down his arms.

“Are you alright?”

No response.

“Fuck.”

He felt the man’s neck. He had passed out from shock.

Bhagat glanced over to his advance squadron.

They were in reach of the walls.

“I’m sorry friend,” whispered Bhagat, taking the shield from the warriors hands. “I’ll need this for myself.”

He charged forth, joining his men.

Fucking hell, if only we had a bloody ram!

Everything he could’ve planned became a regret in that moment, now that the battle had begun.

“Enemy attack!” shouted one of the Afraaris. “Fend them o—

“No! Garrison commander!” he heard a man scream.

“Go! Setup the ladder and breach the wall!”

A volley came and lodged themselves in between the stones of the wall. Some arrows deflected off and landed on the ground and others had hit the Afraaris as intended. In reltaliation, the enemy archers honed in on the men around the ladder, picking them off one by one where the shields couldn’t protect them.

Bhagat raised his shield and blocked a few arrows that had come his way.

“This’ll be a bloodba—

“ENEMY BEHIND US!”

Several bodies fell from the walls, the blood rinsing the grass red.

“The hell?” Bhagat took a good look at the body under the shield. “That’s a crossbow bolt!”

“Bhagat!”

Bhagat turned.

“Param?”

“Over here!” shouted Param, his figure by the open southern gate entrance. “Get the men through here!”

“Alright!” He ignited the blade and pointed it rightwards towards where the doors. “Men! On me!”