Daggers in the Dark (Book 3 of Hanthalah)

Chapter 3

The light of the moon was dim, the wooded area gloomy. Yet I found myself gazing at 'Abd al-Ka'aba's red turban; the headgear he would never part from since his...incident.

I suppressed a shiver at the memory. Ever since that fateful night, I resolved that I would be an even stronger individual – for my children. One of them lost a finger, and my eldest lost both ears. Sumayya lost her life. For my own feud. It would not happen again. There can be no capacity for emotion, nor for the slightest weakness. The enemy can exploit even that.

I shook my tribulations away, resuming our stealthy hike up a Cypriot hill dotted with trees. The landscape was easy on the eyes, but I paused not a moment to gawk. We had a mission to execute, and I would return to Mu'awiyah with my head held high. There was no room for weakness.

Failure is a weakness.

Only for this night, I would part from the ship. I was the effective commander of ibn Abu Sarh's fleet, but my skills were required on the mainland of Cyprus.

The siege had dwindled on for weeks, the Romans in Salamis and their hastily constructed fortress cut off from the rest of the world by an army on one side and a fleet of ships on the other.

The same boring shit that frustrated me since I was a young man; I suffered many a siege during my lifetime. Men succumbing to dysentery, the constant anxiety over the inevitable depletion of supplies and resources born of inadequate planning. The sleepless nights spent gaping at the torchlit enemy walls, fearing an attack at any second.

And, as it turns out, there was an added issue to a naval siege. The bloody icy breeze. It seemed to pierce the walls and find its way past your very bones. Now, the soldiers suffered from both dysentery and the flu. The situation escalated with many and they fell victim to the fever. The blazing hot bodies of the ill transformed into chilly corpses only moments later. It was a morbid reminder of mortality. But one was surrounded by death every day. It did not faze me.

There was also the worry of the land army being ambushed by a lurking Roman army to the west, since Cyprus was teeming with yet more Roman garrisons. Of course, the Romans were weakened and left vulnerable by the prior Muslim engagements that saw their armies shattered, but the notion of a relief force sent from a Cypriot stronghold elsewhere was not implausible.

That was my task. Our task. We were dispatched to a nearby military stronghold not far west from Salamis. A simple raid was our task. Hit and run before the Romans knew we were there.

My meagre band consisted of fifty men. I borrowed another of Mu'awiyah's generals – man by the name of ibn Qays, from the besieging land army. I also brought along my son, Piruzan the Persian and Mundhir.

"Come along with me," was all that I needed to tell Piruzan to join my expeditionary force.

He only shrugged, nodded and strode close behind. It was what I found so endearing about him. His complacency. Also, I needed him close by, as not to leave him prey to the words of any potential palace rival that sought to undermine my influence in Damascus.

I had my share of conniving shits, brandishing their daggers in the shadows behind pleasant smiles and sweet words in Madinah, and it nearly had me killed. Now, I would prepare myself. I would forge a bond with this slave, as I established a...friendship with Ramla, the daughter of Mu'awiyah.

We peaked the hill. The landscape below burst alight with torches emitting their warm, bright lights like dragonflies. I could see the fort now. Not too dissimilar from the one at Salamis, it was not massive, with a wooden palisade and fighting platforms. There was a small village encircling the fort out the walls.