GODS AT THE CENTRE ( EDITING)

CHAPTER VIII, EMMESO: IN THE EYE OF DEATH

"I suppose we are holding up fine." Atriks chatted while Emmeso watched the soldiers roll out the Thigian corpses from the trench and regained their stance, pavises interlocked and spears poised.

Emmeso sighed. It had been quite a day.

He was here and the battle had already begun. They managed to drive them back the first time, thanks to the stones walls of the Throat.

He cast an eye around the valley. The walls were sheer enough, the path widened as it climbed, resembling an open throat.

The unfortunate attackers had rushed into their defences half maddened and terrified by the arrows.

A good number fell into the dug trench at the entrance to the pass, with stakes driven into it. It was a cruel way to die.

Their agonizing cries mingled with the clash of steel. Their comrades had stepped on them, some jumped over the trench only to receive a shield bash back into it.

It was an easy rout. And that bothered Emmeso a bit. He glanced at the army far below. The Thigian host spread over the plain like black ants. He could make out their blue and brown standards.

Why did Vantu keep sending assault after assault to take the pass by brute force? Such a renowned general should know better than to waste her men. Or was she desperate?

Was she in a haste to break through and march on to Alamaria? It seemed she didn't have a shortage of men.

Maybe she wanted to tire them out. There was no chance of that. Alamarians would fight without tiring with their homeland involved.

He sat erect on his horse and he spotted  Balog   Dasa Filk.

He could have sworn that the nobly born commander of the First Fort was glaring at him under the afternoon blaze.

Well, I can hardly punish a man on the suspicion that he's glaring at me, let alone a noble.

And that was part of the trouble. He wasn't a noble but Dasa was.

The Assembly had put him over Dasa. That must irritate him severely.

To Dasa, he was probably more worthy to lead than him because he was an aristocrat.

Never mind that the House of Filk was among the dregs of nobility. Noble is Noble as they say.

Dasa with his thin face and small eyes was the tenth or ninth son of the late son of the polygamous late patriarch. Probably over forty.

Dasa never got the chance to seat in the Assembly. His mother was not a favourite of the late patriarch.

Whatever the case, his father had secured for him a position in the First Fort that guards the city against the south. A place of ease.

Where nothing has happened for ages.

Yes, Dasa probably had little battle experience. There were talks of him having participated in the Eastern campaigns, but he didn't particularly distinguish himself.

As far as Emmeso was concerned his being general had more to do with his being a noble than any leadership skill of his.

When he and Atriks had ridden out of the city amidst the knelling of alarming bells, they come upon their assembled force at the outskirts of the city with Dasa who was looked so thin Emmeso swore he must collapse under the weight of his armour.

Dasa had come with arrogance flashing in his eyes. He beat the Filk lily emblazoned at his heart in a salute.

To Emmeso it was had seemed more of a loud declaration.