Daggers in the Dark (Book 3 of Hanthalah)

Chapter 2

I was past my thirtieth year, yet I was dexterous as ever. I spun on my ankles and lunged at someone's throat. Just as quickly, I slammed my shield into an assailer's face, the iron boss crushing his nose and destroying his cheekbones. There was a loud, satisfying crack but I spared no time to enjoy the brief victory. I yanked my blade free and swept it in a wide arc, either slashing through mail and cloth or forcing any attackers away.

Mundhir, Piruzan and 'Abd al-Ka'aba had hopped onto the ship by then and were relieving me of some of the pressure. More men hopped off our ship to wreak havoc upon the Romans here. Before long, I was wading in a lake of blood, knee-high, seeking out my next enemy.

Instead, I came face to face with my son. We were both panting and drenched in blood.

"This is your first taste of battle," I realized aloud.

He shrugged. "There were bandit raids against the Asad."

He was referring to his time among the Banu Asad, a Bedouin tribe that roamed the desert and lived in tents. I entrusted my children to their custody so that they may grow with strength and fortitude and uncorrupted principles. 'Abd al-Ka'aba's brother and sister yet dwelled among them.

Alas, at the height of battle, there is not much time for chatter.

I spun and raised my shield against an incoming attack. The man's blow found only wood and he resumed his barrage of strikes, coming at me again and again, only to find his efforts spurned by sturdy defense.

I ducked beneath one high-placed sweep, and rolled to his side, slashing his thigh along the way. I found my feet and he let out a cry of agony. He struck with his blade again, but I parried with my own, our swords crossed between us, the sound of the impact ringing out, steel scraping against steel.

I slammed my shield into him, and we found ourselves locked together in a struggle on the ground. His sword was sent sprawling beyond his grasp, but he maintained a grip on my arm, preventing me from ending his life.

I slammed my shield into his face again and again, blood splashing on my face as his bones snapped beneath me. Yet his grip remained firm.

Finally, I howled and tossed my shield aside. I hurled myself forward and dug my teeth into his bare neck and tore at it. He began shrieking like a child then, but he did not ease his grip. I twisted his skin with my teeth, chewing and munching away as I drew first blood, savoring its taste, the warmth of it overwhelming my tongue and filling my mouth.

I twisted again but my head was yanked away as his skin was torn. I headbutted him in his battered face, evoking another loud snap. The back of his head thumped against the wood of his deck and he lost consciousness, his grip on my arm finally tenuous. I wriggled it free of his fingers, rose and rammed my blade down, piercing his throat as he sunk in a pool of his own blood.

I paused to take my breath, steadying myself against the rail of the ship, restoring the strapping of my shield to my left arm. I quickly surveyed the state of the battle. It seemed to be dwindling on rather evenly. One of our ships had burned and another was sunken.

Our men at the harbor seemed to have gotten the upper hand. They captured one of the Roman ships and sunk another, while the last one was putting up a fierce fight. They seemed to have taken light casualties, few to speak of. They would soon rush to our aid here, where we were in poor shape against a more numerous foe.

We needed only to struggle as long as it takes for our own relief force, the remaining five ships trailing behind the main body of the fleet, to emerge from the mists to the east to crush the stubborn enemy once and for all.