Friday, April 15, 2011

Day 17 - The Battle of Thassa

How shall I describe the great clash at sea, between the mighty vessels of Tyros, and the Warships of Ar which, launched by some secret port, have plied the waters to our very shore.  The green back of Thassa turns red with blood, and littered with smoking hulks of sinking ships. Bodies cast to the waves, wash upon the shores and rocks of Tyros, warriors and sailors of both nations lay broken and battered.

In the wooded shores of Tyros, I come to the aid of our Ubar, who is falling beneath the blades of Ar's men. One, I dispatch quickly, a sword to his liver. He dies at my feet with only a moan. Arrows bite at my shield and I find more men of Ar, emerging from the brush. A swordsman comes and drives a blade through my belly. I feel the teeth of an arrow in my shoulder. I cling to my sword and my shield as I fall to the sand, red I see, with blood that is my own.  I smile. It is a glorious death, I think. Through my broken vision I see a Man of Ar bring sword to my throat. He asks, if I shall beg, or scream for him. Yet I refuse. He asks then if he shall spare me and place me in the collar.  I cannot, I said, for I am a Warrior. It is not a fitting end. He seeks to give me a Warriors death, and I am pleased.  The sword is thrust through my throat and I am in darkness.

When my eyes opened, I was upon my back in the Infirmary, I have no recollection of getting there. Yet I see Lady Zalika and Lady Fantasia tend my wound. Too, I see my slaves at the foot of my table, weeping.  For days I am there, under the care of the Caste of Physicians, my wounds slowly are mended.  The Priest-Kings, I surmised, had more purpose for me yet.

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