BOOK II OF III: The Reign of the Sultan

by J. Eric Booker

  At that comment, Brishava could say no more … Humonus, on the other hand, said with both enthusiasm and confidence, “My Sultan, I have no doubt that you will come out of this battle victorious!”

  “Thank you, my friend.”

  Only two minutes later, which time was spent in silence, they reached their own army.

  Through the megaphone, Humonus called out, “Attention!”

  The army assumed the position of attention even before the two trumpeters had the chance to blow the two-toned tune. Humonus handed the megaphone to Baltor.

  Baltor commanded through the megaphone, “Forces of the Sharia Empire, a major change has occurred within our battle plan—instead of having all-out war, Emperor Vaspan and I will be fighting one-on-one to the death. That is all from me to you right now!”

  The troops remained silent, as they patiently awaited any new instructions.

  Meanwhile, Baltor set the megaphone into his lap, while saying aloud, “Ruling-General Humonus, dispatch a volunteering messenger immediately to General Hawkins inside the city. Tell the general to keep his forces on red alert, just in case Vaspan’s motives do turn underhanded…”

  After taking a deep breath through his mouth, he added, “Also, tell the general of our upcoming battle to the death, and that if the flag of the Vaspan Empire comes first without any signs of trickery or war from the coliseum, he is to open the city gates and welcome their new Sultan! That is all for the messenger.”

  Humonus had already noticed all the hands sprouting from troops who volunteered to be that messenger.

  One female soldier cried out, “Ruling-General Humonus, my name is Private Mena, and I feel that I would be best qualified to relay the Sultan’s message to General Hawkins, sir!”

  Humonus called her over with a wave of his hand, and asked, “And why is that Private Mena?”

  “Sir, I have his orders already memorized verbatim—if you would like me to recite them to you word for word, I can…sir!”

  “You’ve got the mission if you can recite his third order verbatim, Private Mena.”

  Mena recited, “Also, tell the general of our upcoming battle to the death, and that if the flag of the Vaspan Empire comes first without any signs of trickery or war from the coliseum, he is to open the city gates and welcome their new Sultan—sir!”

  “Go with haste, Private Mena.”

  “Yes, Ruling-General Humonus!”

  After snapping a salute to Humonus, a cavalry soldier offered his horse to Mena—she took off with that great haste toward Pavelus!

  Baltor, who had been patiently waiting, turned to look at the troops, lifted the megaphone up to his mouth, and added , “The rest of you will be coming along to watch the spectacle at the coliseum, first-hand. None is to interfere under penalty of death by the faction that individual belongs, including royalty—the same penalties apply for Emperor Vaspan’s army! Also, during the course of our battle, if either he or I step outside the perimeters of the circle without the other combatant unquestionably dead, even once, that person is to die by the hands of both armies—any questions?”

  “No Sultan!” the troops snapped.

  Through the megaphone, Baltor called out, “Good—forces of the Sharia Empire, right face! Forward, march!”

  Baltor led the way to the coliseum. Humonus, Brishava, Chelsea and the guide-on bearer rode right behind. All forty thousand troops marched in ranks, or rode upon their camels, horses, or horse-drawn chariots behind them.

  Perhaps a minute after they had left, Baltor looked back over at Humonus and said, “Ruling General, one more thing. Only once Vaspan and his forces have begun entering the coliseum, and there is no trickery from his part, send a messenger out to retrieve my Shadow Forces and have them come to the coliseum. They may miss this fight, or they may not if Vaspan proves to be just an underhanded trickster.”

  “Yes, my Sultan,” Humonus replied.

  About twenty minutes later, they arrived at the gargantuan ovular coliseum. This building’s height was only three hundred feet, yet the diameter was about five thousand feet by ten thousand feet—only half of this building was complete. After the majority of those who had horses and chariots parked them outside the coliseum, they then walked inside.

  Just like the exterior, the interior to the coliseum was also only halfway complete—there were enough seats created for both armies, and an additional fifty thousand people to sit—but most wouldn’t want to sit for this event.

  Five thousand of Baltor’s cavalry, as well their general, eagerly waited on their horses in the middle of the arena for the order to come out and attack.

  But surprise didn’t hit those cavalrymen when they saw who it was, as an advanced scout had already reported that they had seen the flag of the Sharia Empire flying before the army heading toward the coliseum.

  Once inside the arena, Humonus ordered the nearest of the troops who stood around in loose formation: “I need volunteers to draw a very large circle in the center of the arena. Make its diameter one hundred feet, which will give our two combatants plenty of room. Also, place torches about ten feet away from each other around the outside of the perimeter. Between each of the torches, there is to be placed a different type of weapon, or weapons—get creative…”

  After sucking in a deep breath, he added, “As for the rest of us, we will wait in loose formation until the other army steps forth, but keep yourself armed at all times and keep calm. Finally, do not attack unless it is by order of the Sultan, himself…understand?”

  The troops responded, “Yes Ruling-General Humonus!”

  Immediately a small group of these soldiers elected themselves for the task of drawing the circle and putting torches around it.

  Just as they were finishing setting out the last of the weapons, about fifteen minutes later, Baltor was the first to hear the enemy forces drawing closer to their current position, evident from the sounds of hundreds of thousands of marching footsteps.

  Ten minutes later, with Vaspan and his entourage in the lead, the enemy army slowly-but-surely began to enter the coliseum.

  It was then that Humonus delivered the order to send a messenger to retrieve the Shadow Forces. Nearly a half an hour later, three-quarters of the entire coliseum was filled with troops from both sides.

  Humonus and Chelsea already sat in the royal bleachers, and watched. Meanwhile, Baltor sat on his horse within the perimeters of the torches that were now burning. Brishava stood within the circle as well, but she was now looking out the open-faced coliseum into the darkness of night. Dozens of stars were twinkling, as neither of the two moons was visible in the sky.

  As Vaspan drew within the perimeters of the torchlight, still riding on his horse, Baltor could see that his soon-to-be combatant had a rather smug smile upon his face, as if he had already won the duel—of course, his entourage continued to ride on their horses behind him, also bearing smug smiles.

  Seconds later, Baltor walked over to Brishava, who was still obliviously staring at the stars facing the opposite direction.

  He next placed his hands on the top of her shoulders standing right behind her, and whispered gently into her ear, “My love of loves…the outcome of this battle has long ago been determined—not by any human being, but by God…

  “Even if I should die tonight by your uncle’s hand, that does not mean I won’t be waiting for you on the other side, waiting to take you into the eternal heavens with me. Nothing, and I mean nothing, can stop me from doing that—I swear!”

  Brishava turned around, revealing tears that had been steadfastly pouring down from her eyes. She whimpered, “I just… I just can’t stand the thought of losing you, Baltor….especially after all we’ve been through and overcome!”

  He wrapped his arms tightly around her—not only did she return that hug, yet she ensured that it became even tighter by her own gripping arms.

  While in that tight embrace, he whispered in her ear, “If you think about all we’ve already overcome,
then you will realize that we’re already the victors, no matter the outcome.”

  A look of confusion suddenly drew upon Brishava’s face. She pulled away from the embrace, and was about to ask what Baltor had meant when he said, “no matter the outcome,” but didn’t get the chance.

  Vaspan had just broken up their intimate moment, by jesting, “Well, peasant, have you said all your farewells to my niece yet, or should we just wait until tomorrow morning to do battle, so you can have a last one night stand before you die like a slaughtered pig?”

  At that, just about all of Vaspan’s troops burst out into voracious laughter at “the joke!” Meanwhile, all of Baltor’s troops took it both personally and offensively, as became evident by the weapons firmly clinched in their hands coupled with the furious anger reflected within their eyes—every last soldier sitting down, in which there only a few, had risen to his or her feet!

  No matter how horrendous the odds were stacked against them now, the Forces of the Sharia Empire fervently listened, and the majority even hoped and prayed, for their Sultan to voice the command, “Attack!”

  After all, over the course of the last five weeks since their training had begun, most had come to respect Baltor as a “great man.” Many already loved him.

  Even though anger and hurt were also two emotions certainly running through Baltor’s mind, he didn’t let his face betray anything but love for his wife as he gazed one more time into her absolutely adorable face!

  Cupping her face ever-so-lightly in both of his hands, he whispered, “I love you, Brishava, my beautiful wife…”

  She, in turn, whispered back, “I love you, my Baltor, my beautiful husband!”

  Baltor kissed his wife’s lips and then her forehead one final time before letting her go, turning around to face his combatant, and replying quite seriously, “Let’s battle now.”

  The soldiers opened up a gap so that Brishava could make her way to the staircase that led up to the royalty section located within the stands, and watch. At the same time, Vaspan stopped chuckling immediately upon hearing that order from “the bratty kid,” which was only a single second before he climbed off his horse and onto the ground.

  After Vaspan had entered the circle at the opposite side, he began expertly swinging his two-handed sword all around using only one hand, while gazing at its quick and powerful movements.

  Meanwhile, Baltor drew both of his swords at the same time, and waited perfectly still in the ready position.

  As for the two opposing armies, they immediately closed all gaps surrounding the circle, which formed a very solid wall—approximately one hundred and seventy-five thousand soldiers there were, though not a single man or woman sat.

  Meanwhile, Humonus, Brishava, and Chelsea watched nervously on the royal bleachers—they were helpless to do anything else but sit and watch.

  A few seconds later, Vaspan stopped swinging his sword around, and then he turned to face his opponent—all the while, Baltor carefully watched his opponent’s every single move.

  Almost sounding polite, Vaspan asked, “Would you like to make the first move, or should I?”

  Instead of answering his question, Baltor stated, “Sir, it doesn’t have to be this way, you know.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “There is an even better way than me and you battling to the death!”

  “What other way is there?”

  “The way of peace between our two lands, perhaps even a reuniting? After all, you, Brishava and I are all family, Uncle Vaspan, and there is a whole world for us to claim and rule,” Baltor promised. “I also know that this would have already been the case, had your brother shared his empire with you long ago. Please let us end this family feud once and for all!”

  For about thirty seconds, Vaspan actually appeared to be considering Baltor’s words…

  Until unexpectedly, Baltor observed a mysterious phenomenon occur with his uncle-in-law’s eyes—they magically glowed a blood-red color for a single second!

  In the very next second, Vaspan roared like a dragon, while swinging his sword aimed directly for his opponent’s neck.

  Not surprisingly, Baltor had already somersaulted himself out of harm’s way, and after rolling twice more in order to gain some extra distance, he asked with a whole lot of concern, “Are you all right?”

  “I’m fine,” Vaspan yelled, “quit asking me your stupid questions, and let’s fight already, punk!”

  Baltor’s eyes squinted in contemplation—he did not suspect that his uncle was fine at all, especially during that moment when his eyes literally flashed red.

  Despite Vaspan’s command to fight, Baltor pleaded, though not in any sort of weak or pitiful tone of voice, “I do not want to fight you, uncle! Please, come back home with us to Pavelus, where you will be recognized as the royalty that you are!”

  Vaspan snarled, “The reason I will win this duel is not just because I am a better fighter, and not just because I am the rightful Sultan, but it’s really because I absolutely refuse to share my Empire with a pathetic peasant, thief and punk like you!”

  After a moment’s pause, he added, “As for Brishava, she is both young and pretty—she, with my help, will find her a new husband of noble blood, one who both she and I deem worthy to rule after my time is complete! Probably Prince Jumblee.”

  Even though that last comment got Baltor’s “blood boiling,” Vaspan was still the first to make the next offensive strike, as he came rushing in with his two-handed sword sticking out straight in front of him like it was a lance!

  Baltor knew the time for talk had ended, and even though he remained in the ready position without moving a muscle, he was ready for his enemy to near.

  A few seconds before Vaspan’s arrival, he unexpectedly threw his body into a forwards somersault, and while coming out of the roll, he angled out his sword so that it would slice Baltor open from top to bottom!

  Just in the nick of time, Baltor had already rolled backward out of the dangerous sword’s reach—the sword bounced harmlessly off the ground, making a loud clanging noise!

  As soon as Baltor had regained his standing position, he saw that his opponent was already coming in with another angled attack.

  Using both swords just like lock picks, Baltor not only barely deflected the angle of Vaspan’s sword, yet tapped the side of that sword with both of his swords one extra time!

  Vaspan’s attack completely missed, his sword flying wildly out of his hands and landing five feet away.

  Without pause, Baltor flicked both of his wrists up and out, in order to rip across his opponent’s abdominal muscles times two, but Vaspan had performed his own backwards somersault out of harm’s way!

  Many in the crowd, from both sides, breathed out, “Oooh…”

  In that same moment, one combatant held a look of astonishment, while the other surprise!

  Baltor was quite astonished because Vaspan utilized the same martial arts style as he. Vaspan, on the other hand, was only momentarily surprised at the incredible fighting ability this kid had—no one had ever disarmed him before, with the exception of his older brother and father—no one!

  Using Baltor’s astonishment to his advantage, Vaspan hightailed his way to the edge of the circle, and while staying within its perimeters the whole time, he surprisingly threw himself into a sideways somersault while plucking three foot-long daggers off the ground in the process—once acquired, he regained his ready stance.

  A second later, Vaspan laughed, “That was a good move you had there, boy, but you haven’t seen anything yet!”

  He immediately began to expertly spin, twirl, and even juggle those daggers around as if they were merely children’s toys, and not lethal weapons!

  After those daggers had begun to spin around in a rapid circle right in front of his body, nearly ten seconds after he had begun juggling, he not-too-surprisingly launched the first, the second and the final dagger straight for Baltor! Already he had begun to run for
the next weapon…

  Meanwhile, Baltor had just begun to tightly rotate both of his wrists into a figure “8” pattern, which caused his swords to form that same pattern on a much-larger scale—in the very next second of time, the first two daggers straight away became deflected by Baltor’s swords, landing on the ground nearby!

  The hilt of the final dagger, a split-second later, astonishingly became caught up in the “gravitational pull” from Baltor’s swords, which swords continuously spun around in the “8”.

  Six astonishing seconds later, and without his hands having physically touched the dagger even once, he flicked both sword-bearing wrists still a different way, which caused that dagger to launch straight and true for where Vaspan was now running!

  Only a second before the dagger could impact, Vaspan dropped and rolled out of harm’s way, but one of his officers standing right outside the circle wasn’t so lucky as it plunged to the hilt in his heart, killing him before his body had even hit the ground!

  Baltor’s troops had begun to cheer—Vaspan’s began to boo! In fact, several of that officer’s underlings got so infuriated that they tried to charge into the ring in order to kill Baltor, but their buddies from the same platoon tightly held them back, remembering the commands from Sultan Vaspan that “any interference means death.”

  As for the man himself, he had already neared the closest weapon lying on the ground, which was a spiked mace—he picked it up and turned to face Baltor.

  “You got lucky with that dagger, boy!”

  While waiting in the ready position, both of Baltor’s eyebrows rose sharply before he asked with a laugh, “Think so?”

  Without answering the question, Vaspan’s face instantly contorted to rage, just before he cocked back his mace and began charging for his opponent at top speed. What had pissed the man off wasn’t Baltor’s question, yet the “really snotty way” he had asked it!

  Once he had neared his opponent, nearly fifteen seconds later, his hands widely swung around his mace from back to front, so that it would flatten his opponent’s head like a pancake.

  However, Baltor was already prepared with a good defense. At the very last second he took a very large step to the right, which caused the mace to instantly miss and thud into the ground—without delay, he kicked his left foot hard into the back of his still-running opponent!