Gleaming steel of blades and spears flashed within the mist. It was like lightning piercing through summer clouds. What was more, here and there turbid red flames rose into the air, bringing a scorched scent to the field.
The young warrior clad in black armor was forced to question whether he was in that moment reckless more than brave. Nonetheless he found himself searching for a single soul within the chaos of the expansive battlefield.
“Prince Arlsan! Are you there!?”
As he let out countless cries, Daryun’s black helm was splattered in the blood of his Lushtanian enemies. He could not remember just how many Lushtanians he had impaled on the tip of his spear since leaving the shah’s battalion. Only that, there were none who stood before him a second time after their encounter.
His vision continued to scan back and forth until it at last settled on a single point. About 100 gaz (approx. 100 meters) hence was a face he recognized. That of the marzbān Kharlan. But on that face was an expression he recognized not.
As he saw Daryun approach and wordlessly raised one of his hands in the air, the surrounding knights all turned their spears towards Daryun. Daryun understood, these were not knights of Pars, they belonged to the Lushtanians.
“What is the meaning of this, Kharlan?” Daryun asked the question, but he had already discerned the silent answer in Kharlan’s face. Kharlan had not mistaken the size of the enemy’s army. Nor had he lost his senses. As sure as his name was Daryun, he had commanded the Lushtanian forces. He now breathed in deep and bellowed.
“You have betrayed us, Kharlan!”
“I have done no such thing. Indeed, it is because I care truly about the kingdom of Pars that I have contributed to our plan to remove Andragoras from the throne,” Kharlan now scorned his majesty as he deigned not to use his title. Daryun’s understanding flashed within his pupils and he moaned.
“I see, all is clear now. The reason you encouraged me before the battle to request our shah to hold back his forces was so that I would receive his pique and be relieved of my title of marzbān – all is as you intended.”
Daryun’s query was met with shrill laughter.
“As you say, Daryun. I know that you are not both fool and brute. Which is why I could not suffer to leave you in command of 10,000 cavalry. No matter how valorous you may be, there is little you could do to sway the battle as a lone knight.”
The boastful Kharlan had stopped talking. Daryun, spear at the ready, was now charging at him atop his black steed.
One of the Lushtanian knights surrounding Kharlan looked to meet him and kicked his dappled grey horse. He thrust at Daryun with a long spear with a guard in its center, that was a different shape than the spears of Pars.
It was like two streaks of lightning clashing in the night. The spear of the Lushtanian upon grazing Daryun’s armor flew into the air, then Daryun’s spear pierced the throat of its quarry, its tip shooting out from the back of the head. The knight’s corpse fell to the earth, impaled spear and all.
Daryun was quick to release his spear from the body. As the pike gleamed white like the first rays of sun brightening an early winter’s morning, the next Lushtanian foe’s head flew into the air, helm and all, leaving a trail of blood.
“Move not a muscle, Kharlan!”
Daryun cut down the third Lushtanian knight, then with his return strike slashed the fourth on his saddle accompanied by a gush of blood.
Those Lushtanian cavalry that had burnt Maryam to the ground, were as powerless children in the wake of Daryun’s martial might. And one after another there now masterless horses fled into the mist in panic.
“You have betrayed our shah and played me for a fool. I will make you atone for both those sins.”
As if responding to its rider’s fury, the black mare let out a high bray, then charged full speed at Kharlan, it’s eyes peeled.
Was it possibly in hopes of receiving praise from their superiors that the remaining Lushtanian knights thrust themselves in front of the charging Daryun? But the cost of their bravery was their lives, and Daryun’s charge was slowed not the slightest bit by their resistance. Blades flashed as they crossed before Kharlan, and a dreadful clang of blade on blade rang through the air, as new blood soaked the earth. Kharlan saw it right before his eyes. There now stood none between he and Daryun, who held his longsword high above his head, poised to strike.
Kharlan should have himself been a veteran of war, but perhaps it was due to Daryun’s valor that exceeded estimation, or because of the guilt he himself carried, he now trembled. He made to turn his horse and flee. Daryun’s blade caught only air.
Two knights galloped through the swirling mist. One who sat in the position of marzbān despite his betrayal, and the one who had lost that same position despite his loyalty, passed each other back and forth as they turned a corner of the plains. Kharlan returned strikes even as he ran away, clashing blades ten times with Daryun. None had matched the strength of Daryun’s slashes up to this point. That was until his horse abruptly dug in his front hooves, throwing rider to the ground. Kharlan’s sword flew out of his hand, and while making to protect his head with two hands, he now turned towards Daryun and pleaded.
“Wait, Daryun, listed to me!”
“Nothing you would say can save you.”
“Wait, if you only knew the circumstances, you would not fault my actions. Please listen—”
Daryun leveled his glinting blade. Not so that he could cut Kharlan down. It was so he could fend off numerous arrows fired towards him. When the short but fierce barrage had stopped, Daryun saw Kharlan’s backside taking shelter behind the line of Lushtanian bowmen. There were perhaps fifty in total, and, witnessing the enemy that loaded the next round of arrows as they marched forward, Daryun abandoned his pursuit and tugged his horse’s neck.
“Spare their lives for now,” Daryun reminded himself. There was one far more important whose life had been entrusted to him by his uncle. He must rescue the prince from this battlefield and see him safely home to the capital Ecbatana. There was no excusing his being swept up by momentary passion and losing his life here.
Tens of arrows flew after Daryun’s retreating form, but none met their mark. But by saving Kharlan from the hand of vengeance, the bowmen of Lushtania had succeeded in their purpose.