One's Own Army ( Part 7 )

The commander of the Maruts, the storm tribe, found that his heart was pounding. The storm tribe was at the core of the mercenary band. But it was an open clan that absorbed whoever joined the mercenary band into it, just like the Ha'gya tribe once upon a time. Unconsciously, he commander Ajagava, looked at the hulking figure of the enemy general. Then he looked at the little boy on the horse who was too small to even hold a bow properly.

He urged fearfully while casting a desperate glance at Ashangi at the same time, "Little Lord, that's a terrible idea!"

"It's decided," Kush said dispassionately, "Bring the interpreter. We wish to communicate with General Bo'Hur."

Before he could argue more, Kush already dug his heels into the horse and strode past his men, his eyes throwing a vigorous challenge to the savage man. His powerful horse kicked up a lot of dust as he rode it. Stopping at a half way point, the boy yelled,

"General Bo'Hur, ten years ago, a prophecy was issued by the Brahmins. It said that 'Under the clear skies, storm shall charge. Rudra will enslave the men of sands and desert.'

"My Maruts are the lords of storm!" Chandra Kush declared in an impassioned voice, "My Maruts are children of none other than Rudra. If he is truly the lord you pray to, you will know there is no shame in submitting to us!"

The leader of the barbarian allies had similarly come to the front to face little Kush. He did not feel contempt for the child on account of his age. The barbarians respected strength. The general felt that if this boy was standing in front of all these powerful invaders, he must certainly have the strength to be there.

Yet what he said through the interpreter was quite different from what he felt. "Boy who still smells of mother's milk…" he opened, making his soldiers laugh in unison. "Do not overreach. This General knows this so called 'Maruts' is merely the name of that ragtag band of mercenaries you brought along with you. They accept anyone who wish to join them. They are not the storm gods and they are definitely not children of Rudra. The children of the desert will not be enslaved by you!"

Kush expected the enemy general to say something like that.

"I will prove to you that you are wrong. General Bo'Hur, fight with me if you dare! If I lose, the Maruts will submit to whatever fate you give them. If you lose, you will bring your army to follow me into the mainland on a path of conquest!"

The general instantly became wary. He already observed that the moment the little boy rode in front, several elite archers from his ranks stretched their bows to protect him. In his opinion, it was impossible for the boy to defeat him, which in turn meant that the enemy has decided to play dirty.

While he did not fear death, Bo'Hur did not want his army to fall apart before the battle had even begun. Although the tribes were presenting a united front now, there were many conflicts among the tribes individually. Without a strong figure to lead them, the alliance could quickly fall apart. Bo'Hur could not take that chance.

"You…? Fight me?" he scoffed, the violent scar on his face twitching in disdain. "You do not have the qualifications."

Kush was suddenly at a loss. He heard that the barbarians tend to jump into any challenge that is issued them. He threw one eye at the fast approaching storm on the horizon and frowned.

"You actually want the men to fight?" he asked openly, his question as unsophisticated like a normal child's.

The enemy general's face twitched again. He was taken aback by the child's honesty. Suddenly, he felt doubtful about this being a trap. What if the little man really was offering to settle this battle with a duel?

Not only would he be able to avoid losses, he would also be able to win this battle easily. Bo'Hur was not under any misconceptions. Although they were outnumbered five to one, he knew that these mercenaries were not soft like the dryland soldiers. They were not easily intimidated and were strong and extremely violent themselves! Till date, theirs was the only enemy the desert tribes met that was as savage and aggressive as themselves. Even if they won the battle today, the desert tribes would also suffer massive losses. On the other hand, if what this boy offered was true and if Bo'Hur did not make the mistake of underestimating him, he could end this battle before the storm reached.

He decided to take a chance, but his words still did not give away what he thought.

"A mere pup like you do not have the qualifications to fight me. If you can fight against any three of my commanders first and win, I will give you a chance to duel me!"

Kush was after all the feared enemy camp's general. Any less than three opponents and the boy might not get desperate enough to employ a prepared trap – if he indeed planned on using one. Any more than that number and it would be unfair, thereby invalidating the context of a duel.

"How dare you!" Ajagava arrived behind Kush, yelling furiously in the desert tongue. The man picked it up in the year that he spent here. "You just wish to tire out my little lord and secure an easy victory for yourself. Are the men of the desert all such cowards like you?" he said with blazing eyes.

Kush himself chose to ignore the commotion however. His eyes never left the enemy general's.

"Why don't you send the three strongest ones…" he said in a bland tone, causing not only Ajagava's but even Bo'Hur's heart to palpitate. "At the same time," the boy added dramatically after a pause.