When Twins War: Book I

Chapter Twenty-Three

The sand storm had come from much further north, whirling through silent dunes and cryptic gulleys, blocking the beautiful gray-blue light of the moon, bringing with it chaos and darkness. Somewhere in between the Twin Cities, much earlier that very evening, the armies of Iza-Kiêrre and Ben-Kiêrre had gathered to duel in fierce battle under a leaden early-evening sky.

Soilabi had truly been given no choice, for the Outlanders had not arrived as he hoped, meeting unannounced delays that only angered him; and Sephobwe had already commanded his army to contest against their camps. If Soilabi would not meet them now, Sephobwe would have much victory over him as already many of his forts had fallen during raids.

He had managed to find victory over many of Ben-Kiêrre's forts in the north, but the outcome of this battle would cut them off from their armies there, forcing those men to abandon the ground they had taken. There were also only three more major forts of his own before Iza-Kiêrre. They all knew this battle would be very important in deciding the outcome of the war. If Sephobwe was to win here, Soilabi would be on the defence and the war would have truly begun.

Perhaps, he thought, if he succeeded to keep them at bay and cause a significant sting in their ranks he would buy sufficient time for them all. His conviction was still resolute: the Twins should not, should never, war, and all of his retaliations and contending were only to keep Sephobwe from thinking that it would be easy. Some things were, as he thought it, necessary, but certainly unfortunate. He still believed in his heart of hearts that the Chancellor was the problem – not his friend Ahmatein.

The Twin armies were facing each other, although at a considerable distance; their light mail-armour blinking in the rusted light. The air was still and cool, with a permanent smell of dust. Soilabi was on his horse gazing at the army before him – strong, mighty and formidable – a fierce enemy. One that he never dreamed he would face. With him he carried a small lamp, modestly carved and painted black. This lamp was the Flame of Peace, to be carried to all wars and kept as a sign of the peace between the Twins when they would war together. It was a lamp that represented generations of tradition and virtue.

He rode swiftly to the middle of where the Twin armies stood. There a small tent had been erected by both generals. This is where the terms of peace would be discussed. His General, Ujalna, rode next to him.

Ten minutes passed before Sephobwe rode down to meet them alone. Soilabi was still looking in the army, trying to see Ahmatein.

"You carry that flame in vain," Sephobwe said, calmly and confidently, as he arrived. His helmet was a dark steel and he wore it low. It shaped around his eyes and curved upwards to a sharp end at the top. Soilabi had never seen this shape of armour before. It covered only his head, but left his face completely open except where it circled around the eyes. He did not get off his horse, despite Soilabi standing under the tent.

"It is not you with whom I wish to speak to," said Soilabi. "You are not the sultan of our great sister. Where is the high sultan, the worthy and wise Sultan Ahmatein?"

Sephobwe's horse snorted, but Sephobwe remained calm and cool. "He is here," he said at length. "But he has made his displeasure at speaking and seeing you quite clear."

Soilabi looked again behind Sephobwe, trying to see Ahmatein in the ranks of the opposing army. "I do not see him," he said flatly.

"You should look more closely," Sephobwe replied. "Move closer."

Soilabi hesitated and Ujalna drew his scimitar while mounting his horse. He trotted over to Sephobwe, eyeing him suspiciously.

"If you say one word to your ranks I shall cut your throat," he said. "One word."