5 EK, Arhi-Chaanu 11 [mid-January]

This next excerpt comes not from the original journal but from a substantial scrap of linen, once someone’s clothing or armor-padding but torn away rather clumsily, haphazardly, even. The script written in a matching fashion. The writing varies in hurriedness and tone, though not fundamental penmanship, suggesting variations in the pacing and urgency of surrounding events.

Some scribes differ on the authorship of this piece, but scholars, as it is known, will differ on everything under the sun. I comfortably assert that the true authorship is evident toward the end. Regardless, Tahur saw fit to bundle it with his journal for some other reason.

Somewhere deep in this unknown place we fight for something other than our lives. Write not by oil lamp or Tao candle but by the flickerings of a burning ruin. All can change in a second--such is being sheltered in some foreigner’s vacated home. He has vacated, but his body watches us from the corner. Has for unknown number of days. We’ve been here for unknown number of days.

We could be attacked anytime, and here I am writing on rags with charcoal.

The screaming returns

The screaming returns

The screaming returns

I know it. They say all the screaming is the same, and I shout that they’re wrong, they’ve been wrong every time, have second-guessed nothing about this place. I can shout because we have not known quiet for days and I will not stand out.

Black. All is black over this land. The moon dares not glide over this place, not even a feeble star peeks out, and why would they? Am-Ishatu himself would turn a blind eye to the wretched horrors that have unfolded beneath these blackened skies.

5 EK, Arhi-Chaanu 16 [mid-January]

[The Battle, written in aftermath; writer takes a break after recording this. First clear reference to the Aljimaayii in his own writing.]

I have reproduced what follows in the best possible faith, author’s original edits and all. One regains a keen appreciation for the writing process as one watches this author struggle with concerns far greater than mere written expression--more so when papyrus is in less-than-abundant supply and there are no multiple drafts.

How to put any of this in order is beyond me. I suppose the only thing is to try. Recount the events as chronologically as possible, and in as much detail as needed.

First came the field battle no, I’m getting ahead of myself. Background, too. That’s essential.

We made a point of assembling the manaqelu actually, more context is needed still.

Ah, the speech. That is enough context.

The morning after we set camp some distance from the city, al-Qahiid spoke before the army, seemingly on his own volition. Much has transpired since then, yet there are several parts I still remember verbatim, or nearly so. This is not his speech in full, but it is as much as I can recall after so much turmoil and terror, and I found much worth remembering.

“I have given counsel to many among you who long to turn their backs to this place and turn homeward. And I understand. We have spent months in uncharted and dangerous lands. We risked much with few to thank us for our toils. We have been assailed time and again by people who, though we assumed they would be civilized, instead fight us with a savagery unseen since the ancient Ashad-Naram had to fight the Itaal, the lowest of halgatu, in defense of their rightful homeland. It is only natural that we dream of returning to our land of bountiful fields, of bustling cities, of elegant gardens, of sprawling and open plains, of towering temples with ever-burning fires. Amid such terror and mayhem that we all have seen in this place, it is only natural that our thoughts are for safer and more familiar lands.”

“But we turns our backs to darkness, to mayhem, to ignorance, they do not turn their backs to us. Wherever a torch or lamp is snuffed out, darkness encroaches. Wherever the law is not upheld, mayhem encroaches. Whenever teachings are left unheard and libraries neglected, ignorance encroaches. We all long to forsake this place, which indeed looks forsaken, but the terrors we have not known here, we cannot leave behind. We are all participants in humanity’s greatest civilization, but if we turn inward and ignore what lies beyond our blessed country’s borders, those halgatu who dwell outside, those who know not their own industry but want what we have, will turn their gaze toward us. It is the unceasing struggle of all civilizations to push back against barbarism, as with fire against darkness, order against chaos, insight against ignorance, morality against wickedness. You have seen for yourselves the great wickedness that has taken over this place: men sacrifice their kin and companions for their own benefit. Many among us have seen, at least in aftermath, some of the awful rituals practiced in some of the communities in this land, with innocents of all kinds butchered in hopes that a divine power will benefit those who are so eager to sacrifice others. All of this in a land that could have once been regarded as Am-Ishatu’s second jewel, a land of great architecture and an ambitious, upright people.”

“We dream of return to our homes, reunion with our families, but it better that those of us who are strong enough protect them. It is better that we uphold all that is good so that they, our loved ones and our helpless, do not have to experience all that is evil. And make no mistake, my brothers. We are not here merely to further the glory of our country or defeat an earthly enemy. Our battle is against evil itself, in all of its forms. Ours is a divine battle for the future of Ershutisharu, and for humanity as a whole. If we allow evil to gain even a foothold so close to our homes, then we risk losing the ongoing battle for future generations. We risk creating a world in which men descended from our own blood do not even know our deeds, in which they wonder why fires that once burned have long since ceased.”

“And yes, I know that we put ourselves in great peril in defense of all we know and love. But please, consider all I have said. Is it truly worthwhile to forsake our mission here, allowing darkness to grow and halgatu to roam free while we and our loved ones wonder what terrors await us?”

“All men are marked to die. We

“All men are marked to die. We know this. What good”

“All men are marked to die. We know this. What good is it, then, to live in complacency, to cover away in safety when evil might find us--or our sons and daughters, or our future grandsons and granddaughters--anyway? I once feared greatly for my life, just as you do yours, and indeed I nearly lost mine--not because it was my time, nor my earned fate, but because savages and savagery nearly took me. And I could have gone back. Other Enu guiding this army have left before me, and none of my peers or superiors would have begrudged me for following suit. But I know, now, why we are here. We are no mere followers of the Bringer of Fire; we are the torch itself, lit by Him for a purpose. While others uphold Am-Ishatu’s order by fostering knowledge, or enforcing the law, or providing the sustenance and stability and any civilization needs, we are the torch, driving out the darkness with force and driving the halgatu out of hiding--so that they cannot lurk among the shadows.”

“Remember also that we do not merely carry the fire in order to stay the darkness. Every day our lamps stay lit and our communities safe, we make discoveries that elevate humanity. Those among us who have enjoyed the protection of iron and the power of horses; those who have had our wounds cauterized, bandaged, splinted, protected from rot; those who have not had to worry constantly about hunger or thirst; we all have the advances of civilization to thank, and those before us did not know so many of Am-Ishatu’s blessings. Further, I must remind you that this upward ascent of humanity is not inevitable. If the now-stricken land of Dao-Lei is not proof enough, consider the story of

He uttered these words, so surely they will not be used against me should I keep record of them.

“If the now-stricken land of Dao-Lei is not proof enough, consider the story of the physician Aljiman, one you might know as Aljiman the Mad. All who hear his story revile him for how far he had fallen before he met his end, but remember that before dark ambitions overtook his mind, he was unveiling the secrets of death itself--of learning new ways to overcome it. I dare say that in a perfect, fully illuminated with Am-Ishatu’s wisdom and His gifts bestowed upon man, man may even be able to overcome death itself, building paradise in its fullest realization.“

Little else stuck for me after that. Generally, he continued with his call to battle, glossing over the last statement before his audience reacted much. I listened through the whole speech, and I was always something between swayed by his words and wary of his message.

I think this is as best as I can recall the Enu’s sermon. Certainly this is the message that most of us who survive--if indeed we don’t all die in this ‘battle against evil itself’--will carry home with us. On to the battle, then.

Not long after al-Qahiid played at being our general, all was prepared for the assault, or at least as well as could be. We had the parts of the manaqelu bundled and loaded on carts, making the admittedly daring move to wait until we were more or less within range of the city’s walls to start assembling them. Yes, we could have assembled them farther away and moved them closer with sheer labor, but making our siege weapon setup visible to the enemy was an effective way to draw them out for an engagement.

A startlingly large force issued forth from the city. We would’ve had to cut through well over a thousand just to get to the gate that they had to open as they let this army out. Estimates in aftermath say the had twelve hundred horsemen and perhaps six thousand infantry, though many of the latter were ill-equipped and under-trained. As the engagement began so abruptly, our estimates come chiefly from body counts and prisoners taken. Archers stayed mostly in the city, focused on suppressive fire against our men at the manaqelu, but our infantry provided cover with wicker shields, and we chiefly focused on our defense against the cavalry and infantry who wanted to run down our siege teams directly.

It was a miserably long battle, and before we even attacked the gates themselves. Their large number of cavalry pulled some effective maneuvers against us, doing damage to our flanks a couple of times, but our previous weapons and tactics rebutted them in good order. Still, we could already tell we had a pitched battle ahead of us. Their forces were more than a third our number; many were facing us in the field, yes, but after this we would be in the position of attempting to assault a city after the casualties resulting from our effort to drive them back.

We heavy cavalry chiefly forced our way through the crowds of Tao peasant-soldiers and toward the city’s nearest gate, like a wedge through wood, with shield-bearing infantry following us to help maintain our position--and minimize the impact of their flanking us. Even then, we had to face uncomfortable proximity to the walls and gates, where the majority of the enemy archers were stationed. I was among the first to be unhorsed--in their first round of fire upon us riders, no less--but going prone so soon might have actually spared me from some of the heaviest shooting. I took up some fallen man’s infantry-shield and helped hold the line, still wondering whether we had arranged ourselves for our owns slaughter.

It was a costly and obviously risky maneuver, but we determined it would be best to put us between the Tao and their own gateway as well as we could. Rather than let them retreat after being kicked around, reinforcing their city with a dangerously large number of men, we obstructed them and massacred as many as we could in the field. Had siege been an option, we would have instead gone for a quick show of force to scare them into hiding behind their walls and eating through their food stores; alas, it is not called the City of Stone for nothing; the city being flanked by miserable terrain, we only had ready access from one angle. The fighting outside was grueling, especially given our positioning and their growing desperation. The Tao had some idea of what we were doing, it seemed, for they threw themselves savagely at our footmen. Still we held our line, though, funneling new blood in as quickly as the Tao felled the first soldiers. As we filled the wedge with more soldiers still, we began to hear the Tao cry out. “Aljimayi,” they would shout, “Aljimayi!” Or something like it, anyway. Not much could be discerned amid the din of battle; what was clear was that they had never counted on our ability to outfit ten thousand men with iron and pads, nor on our willingness to expend them. By the time the remaining Tao broke rank, there were bazaar-sized stretches of land where one couldn’t find the ground underneath the bodies. Over the layer of horses and ill-fated shock troops, the colors (other than red and some bright white) consisted of large patches of weld yellow--our superiors made a point of reminding the enemy who we were-- among the muted, neutral tones worn by the ragged Tao conscripts.

All in all, though, they did play into our hands. A fair number of the Tao retreated as soon as things went south; later we would discover that they knew an alternative route through the mountains and slowly made their way to one of the rear gates, but at the time we were none the wiser. All of the rest died or surrendered on that battlefield, perhaps more than two thousand, save for those who had stayed in the city in the first place. How large the defense force was is more or less impossible to determine for reasons that will soon be clear.

The whole while during that engagement, those siege teams who enjoyed an effective defense by our remaining infantry traded fire with the Tao archers, launching large projectiles to knock them off the walls or at least scare them into hiding. Once we had little remaining opposition in the field, other teams took up the arduous task of manning the battering-rams. The Tao archers were more or less occupied thanks to the manaqelu, but even then, there was plenty of boiling oil and whatever else to go around for the rammers. Surprisingly, even those who made it all the way to the gate were bombarded with arrows and dropped stones; vaguely yet unexpectedly resembling the barbicans known to our own country, the gatehouse designed especially to help its defenders counterattack from multiple angles. At one point, a good number of our infantry had to lay down their weapons so they could push bodies away from the gate and the path to it in order to let more rammers in. Still, even here we got our way, though we would have to hope that the civilians within the city would hide and avoid conflict (as anticipated) and not stand alongside their troops. Civilian ”soldiers” are easy to cut down individually, and even those who are ferociously determined to defend their homes don’t have much more staying power than conscripts, but to have to fight such immense numbers within the city, we knew, would turn the next engagement from another grueling episode into a nightmare.

That’s where the descent into darkness truly began. My impression is that few civilians actually joined in once the gates burst open, but the city was damnably crowded. Smaller than it looked from the outside, and packed with teetering houses to the extent that a little bit of city-planning would still allow. Times being what they were, there were plenty of dilapidated or collapsed buildings as well, so we had these to contend with on top of palisades composed of improvised pikes, old carts and wagons, and whatever refuse they could find to fill the gaps. The town from what feels like so long ago felt open and spacious by comparison.

I remember little of what transpired there, nor would I know how many days we had fighting--and waiting, plenty of waiting--in the city if no one had told me in aftermath. I understand urban combat as a relentless series of small battles, all essentially the same yet each filled with variables that can’t be predicted and can make the difference between life and death. Appallingly large numbers of men can die to gain control of a single housing block--or to regain control, should the enemy gain an edge and push back. Get holed up indoors for long enough, and the skyless visuals plus the overstimulation of the sounds of battle can smother one’s sense of time.

That was only the beginning of the horror, though. Easily my terror was greatest when those “routed” soldiers entered the fray, eradicating what could’ve been half a unit of infantry in a block to our left. Ours hadn’t seen it coming, perhaps preoccupied. The screams were terrible and came all at once. We came out of our position and fought back at first, but we retreated into a nearby building once the Tao had overtaken our conscripts and a watcher announced that they were surrounding us. If we were surrounded anyway, then better to be surrounded within a building that we could barricade. I still remember the face of the first Tao I met in there. Owner, tenant, or refugee, I don’t know. He approached me from beside the doorway, had something to say to me, and I started bashing his head in before he finished. Thinking back, I don’t know whether he had even brandished a weapon against me. Animal instincts had taken over. I was a frightened animal looking for shelter.

All I know is that after days of this, there weren’t enough Tao who were able and willing to fight us off. Our “victory,” I hesitate to call it that, didn’t come without a great cost of other lives. We’ve lost close to half of our men who assaulted the city, many in urban combat with the last trained defenders and a few with those civilians who were determined or desperate enough to resist us. Ultimately, though, they were short both of soldiers--we had slaughtered the bulk of them outside their own city, albeit not without losing many of our own--and civilian fighters, to be explained. When we had finally cut our way to the two largest buildings in the city, important-looking people kneeled before us. Important-looking being relative here: they weren’t as well dressed as I’ve ever been outside the field, and my family has only been in its station for a couple of generations.

Easily my revulsion was greatest when we got to the altars, and not only for the carnage we found there. Too much like what had happened in that town long ago, that town which understandably lies in ashes. I wretched. Apparently I hadn’t had enough food to properly vomit. I nearly turned and ran until one of my fellow riders caught me and I became self-aware for the first time in a while. Standing over the most recent kills--their kills of their own--were men in long robes, ones that clearly hadn’t been replaced in years or maybe decades. They stood ready to execute more people who were apparently standing around, waiting to be executed. We were quick to pay them in kind. We mostly killed the men--priests, surely enough, though of what religion I couldn’t determine--immediately in rage. I know I joined in. Those who surrendered and weren’t hacked down anyway have since been executed by more controlled means. We would’ve taken them as prisoners to drown them in the sea, but we learned from some of our allies that ritual bathing--in seawater, of all things--is an important practice of theirs. Seemed more appropriate just to hang them, all things considered.

What’s truly damnable is how the civilians at that scene reacted, prisoners included. Okay, not all, but many more than I could’ve possibly believed. While a good number of those in the slaughter-lines were thankful for their rescue, just as many cursed us, not merely for taking their city… but preventing their sacrifice. Beyond explanation, these claimed that they intended to die at the altars, looking forward to “returning to Lei.” Even after they had witnessed several slaughters. I simply can’t comprehend it all. Everyone’s favorite Enum is right about one thing: this place has fallen into utter madness. I’m not sure if the “guiding hand” of Hashas rulership will ever fully restore it.

I write all of this from a medical tent. My injuries do not cripple me, and I do not think they put my life at risk, but I am injured and worn enough that the medics have determined they should attend to my recovery here before they send me back home. I felt able-bodied as soon as I had some food and decent drink in me again; really, I suspect they did this because I was not myself for half of our time in that city, certainly not when we came upon that last scene. I suspect they want to know that I won’t snap during the potentially hazardous journey. At least now I can collect my thoughts and save them on good parchment, though I usually have to barter or favor-exchange for it as much of the writing material is being used by scribes giving their official records of this event.

Speaking of collecting my thoughts, medics say they found me clutching a frayed piece of linen close. Claim that I unleashed on one of my “helpers”--more like handlers in this case--when they tried to take it from me. They’ve made a point of not telling me about the fate of that trinket. Maybe it’s nothing, but I have a feeling I should get it back somehow. I figure if I can sneak and fight my way through foreign cities, I can probably manage to reclaim it from my docile caretakers.

5 EK, Arhi-Chaanu 18 [late January]

Well, we’re not burning the whole city, evidently. The Enu certainly tried to argue in favor of doing so, citing the desecration at the altar-site and all. Even tried arguing for a controlled burning of “just that section” of the city--evidently they hadn’t been inside. Catch one building in there on fire and the whole place would go up in sequence, I imagine. Laborers--prisoners of war as well as our own help--are doing their best to demolish everything related to the strange religion here, and soldiers are clearing out the neighborhoods as systematically as is possible in a place such as this. Sounds like they’re just finding civilians in hiding, mainly. Relatively few violent confrontations.

This is place is anticipated to be useful to the home country’s designs, actually. The walls could use some touching up, not least because we tested them thoroughly, but all of our information suggests that it’s the most prominent city for a vast distance. I can’t imagine the standard is that high at this point. In our superiors’ defense (the other ones, not the Enu), our inability to conveniently surround this city would be noteworthy for a future Hashas military base. They’ll have to eat lots of rice, though. Hope the wheat-fed Westerners are fine with that.

Sounds like our superiors (both) will be pushing for a summer campaign to secure control of even more of these southlands, with much of the focus being on better securing their position here in Asru-Kastatha. Personally, I think they’ll change their minds once reports of the low tribute yields come back and they have to figure out how they’ll feed a whole other army. Obviously looting alone hasn’t done the trick.

I probably shouldn’t spend too much time writing, at least not where they can watch me. I’m told to rest and focus on my recovery, but if they see me penning fewer thoughts, maybe they’ll assume my episode was a temporary thing and that my mind hasn’t been so greatly afflicted by my experiences here. Or maybe they want to see whether I go mad again after this extended idleness. The less reason I give them to watch me, the better an opening I’ll have to reclaim that memento anyway.

The entries that follow mostly relate details of Tahur’s daily life during the closing of the campaign and other admittedly mundane matters. I’ve chosen to record his account only to this point for brevity, as the chief purpose of this publication is chiefly to detail one man’s experiences during the March on Asru-Kastava. The return trip is of little consequence by comparison, as our writer does return safely and without further injury, and the military actions that have followed his participation in this campaign are still actively discussed at family meals and wherever else people are prone to stop for discussion.