Nezzar

Part Two: A Snake and A Jackal

There was a trap in these plains, one of the many Nezzar had instructed his commanders to avoid at all costs. But judging from the number of his remaining men, the trap must have done its job.

Nezzar guided his horse to the left, Arioch trailing behind. He had left a good number of his men at the walled city of El-Lahun before riding for the nearest war front with the rest of the army. They had managed to fall upon the enemy from the rear and disrupt whatever upper hand they had gained.

Nezzar's grip tightened around his reins. The smell of blood. The chaos of war. This should be exciting. This was what he had craved for years, but all he felt was that relentless rage and restless frustration. No amount of cutting the enemy down with great savagery had helped. It was after they subjugated the enemy and his men proceeded to chase after those who attempted to flee that Nezzar came upon an unexpected sight. A spread of bodies. All from the Egyptian forces.

"My king, these are..." There was disbelief and awe in Arioch's voice.

The sight was somewhat familiar. There was a certain frenzy that would sometimes come upon him when he engaged in battle. A oneness with death. The ability to powerfully cut down the enemy and instil terror in those who would dare approach him. But this...

Nezzar's gaze roamed over the sea of bodies. He spotted him. A lone figure kneeling far ahead, and the purple-dyed flag waving next to him. Nezzar recognised that flag. After testing the ability of the Pharoah's traps, he sent runners ahead to mark the problem areas. Dismounting, Nezzar made his way around the bodies until he was close enough to recognise who knelt.

Usman's gaze was fixed ahead. The trap covered a wide radius and it contained an estimate of at least five thousand men. All dead at the hands of their comrade. All Babylonian forces.

Arioch stopped at his side. "My King, is that—"

"Yes." Nezzar gritted his teeth as he drew even nearer. "Usman."

Usman turned so that he now knelt before Nezzar. Bowing his head, he set his sword before his knees. "My king, I failed in keeping our forces from being pushed into the trap."

Nezzar stared at his bowed head, jaw ticking. Usman's message was clear.

Kill me for my failure.

"Pick your sword and stand."

Retrieving his sword, Usman rose to his feet. Though he bore injuries, all were superficial. Despite the dullness in his eyes, his grip around his sword was tight. Perhaps he was still enraged. Good.

Nezzar motioned to the corpses behind them. "Who killed them?"

"My men."

"You know what answer I seek."

"I was in a rage, my king." His voice was hollow, his eyes downcast. "When they broke our formation, I threw myself at the enemy to save my men but they overwhelmed us by numbers faster than my sword could cut them down."

Half of Nezzar's anger dissipated. Determined coldness replaced it. Who would have guessed Amytis' eunuch was a beast of war? To singlehandedly kill these numbers. "You have done well, Usman. I will need more of that fire when we get to Dahshur. Go join the rest."

After bowing once, Usman did as he was commanded. Returning his focus to the massacre before him, Nezzar frowned. The boiling black emotion in his insides thickened and hardened. This fury in him. It was much worse, ten times deeper than what he felt towards Zedekiah of Judah. Yes, he had besieged Jerusalem for two years and had cooked in frustration within that stretch but what he felt then was nothing compared to this feeling. Visions of Hophrah's suffering wouldn't leave his head.