Upon hearing that the Aidenists were on the move, Omra rushed to meet Kel Unwar on top of the wall near the gate. The rising sun had not yet driven away the morning dampness, and the air still smelled of rock dust from the previous day’s harrowing catapult bombardment.
“Do you actually sleep here, Kel Unwar?” Omra asked. He wore his pristine white uniform, maroon olba, and sash.
“This is no time for sleep, Soldan-Shah—and that is not a practice drill. It feels different to me.” Unwar stared to the north where the Tierran military milled about with more commotion than usual, obviously intending to advance. “If they have found their balls at last, I am ready to castrate them.”
Omra stroked his dark beard and watched the enemy army. “I don’t believe they were hesitating out of uncertainty or fear—it’s part of a plan. This is no impulse, but a carefully orchestrated operation. They have moved too many soldiers, brought in too many ships.”
Unwar let a small smile curve his lips. “No matter, Soldan-Shah. They can’t breach God’s Barricade. It has stood firm against a thousand boulders hurled at it. It can stand up against a cavalry charge.”
Omra knew Unwar was right, but his heart wasn’t convinced. He had called reinforcements to the wall as a show of force, and they crowded together in an impressive force, waiting to see what the Tierrans were up to. Thousands more Urabans were massed behind the main gate, ready to move against the Aidenists if the gate happened to be breached. In such great numbers, the soldiers were laughing and boisterous.
As the ’Hook soldiers lined up and marched forward, the kel shouted orders down the line. “Bring forth our archers to mow them down as soon as they’re in range. Queen Anjine will lose half of her fighters before they even touch the gate.”
The soldan-shah continued to study the army’s approach, deep in thought. Could that be Anjine’s plan? To sacrifice all those soldiers, hoping that enough would survive to reach the wall itself ? And then what? “Who can understand these mad Tierrans?”
Unwar’s personal anger seemed to dwarf Omra’s. “If they come close enough for us to kill them, I’ll be happy to decorate the wall with their heads. God’s Barricade extends seven miles—room for plenty of victims.” He looked eager for it. “I built this wall, Soldan-Shah, and I dug our canal…but if we exterminate the Aidenists, that will be my greatest achievement.”
Uraban archers rushed up ladders and staircases to the top of the wide wall; they strung their bows and took up positions, propping full quivers beside them.
Below, the Tierran army tramped over the grim line of weathered skulls that waited for them. Omra whispered to himself, “Let’s leave a line of their skeletons that far outnumbers all the innocent Urabans they have slain.”
He recognized the Aidenist queen riding at the fore, resplendent in new armor; a standard bearer at her side carried the Crown-and-Fishhook banner. Though he had never met Anjine in person, Omra loathed her for the things her people had done. She ruled Tierra, and thus the responsibility for all Tierran atrocities rested on her shoulders. The queen symbolized the terror and harm that had been inflicted upon devout Urecari. He prayed for the chance to face her himself. He didn’t care that she was a woman; he would cut off her head just the same. She would bleed like any other victim.
Though the Tierran soldiers were nearly in arrow range of the wall, they did not slow. The cavalry horses whinnied, the footsoldiers’ armor clanked, their swords flashed under the bright sun. He found himself holding his breath.
Unexpected trumpets and alarm bells sounded from deep within Ishalem. Unwar and Omra whirled to see a bright flare shining from a watchtower far to the east. More signals passed; messengers used mirrors to flash an urgent message, according to the routine Kel Unwar had put in place. “Unwar, what is it?”
The kel shaded his eyes, trying to identify the source of the disturbance. “It’s coming from the guard posts along the canal, Soldan-Shah. Something seems to be happening at the Middlesea harbor.”
“But the Tierran army is right in front of us.” Omra frowned. “What new treachery is this?”
Together they hurried to the nearest sentry tower. The watchmen on the top platform were looking south and east, engrossed in something other than the advancing Tierran army. Omra brusquely took a spyglass from one of the sentries and stared along the straight new canal that flowed from one sea to the other.
A messenger came running up then, having translated the coded mirror flashes, but Omra saw the heartwrenching truth in the spyglass before the man could deliver his report. “It’s the ironclads,” he said, feeling a hot weight in his heart. “My ironclads.” He should have expected it.
The tall sailing juggernauts, designed to be the most powerful ships in his own navy, were now commanded by Tierran invaders. The six armored vessels had wrought breathtaking havoc in Olabar harbor. Now they cruised majestically into the Ishalem canal.