CHAPTER EIGHT CARNAGE AND VANITY

At the helm of the fray stood the generals and the kings. Meanwhile King Pash was forced to a farer ground to observe their commands, him together with other neighboring kings who were stuck in the kingdom are compassed with another squadron of battalions where they discussed tactics against the brutal weapon of the enemy’s arsenal. In that minute Pash warned against some of his deadly weapons he devised of his own when he was still on the side of the walls.

“We need to be careful of their weapons, one punt on the face and our soldiers dragged it in, they are good as dead, but our enemies wouldn’t be affected because I’m sure they would use the antidote even before they use. King Pash said looking worried.

“Please tell my king, how and where can we get the antidote, so we can neutralize it when aimed at our men” One of the king reiterated.

“I am afraid, that won\t be possible, the antidote can’t be found here, it can only be found near the lake trees of Amad where my brother came from. On his last visit to this kingdom, he purposely brought it to me just because he had thought to support me in my battle when he found out I am been named commander of this kingdom as at the time.” King Pash said as he looked west and ordered the incoming general to get a scarf mixed with water for their soldiers.

After some while, the enemies cried in great margin, their symphony cries of war stirred the souls of those guarding beneath the gate on the other side of the walls, with the banners on their hands waving backward, it looks like it’s almost dropping from their hands. After a minutes, they began to run up to the wall with a ladder designed to protect them from any inviting arrows. Parah was constantly seen at the front, even the priming rains of arrows couldn’t stop his heavy shield as he charged up front fiercely with his men.

With each step upwards, the warriors felt the weight of their fate pressing down upon them, yet they marched on, unyielding in their resolve.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the wall

each rung a step closer to the battleground where the clash of steel echoed like thunder

The air was thick with the scent of impending battle, mingling with the metallic tang of swords drawn from their sheaths. The warriors eyes alight with the fire of determination, ascended the ladders with a singular purpose etched into their hearts; to conquer or perish in the glorious chaos that awaited.

Upon reaching the zenith of the ladders, the battlefield unfolded before them like a tapestry of carnage. Men clashed with men, their blades gleaming in the harsh light of battle, as if hungering for the taste of blood. Sparks flew as steel met steel, each strike a testament to the savagery of war.

Amidst the chaos, men and women alike scrambled for safety, their cries drowned out by the deafening roar of combat. Some sought refuge behind crumbling walls, while others fled into the labyrinthine streets, their hearts pounding with fear as they sought sanctuary from the storm that raged around them.

But amidst the madness, there were moments of fleeting beauty, where the dance of blades and the clash of warriors gave birth to a spectacle unlike any other. It was a wild symphony of chaos and carnage, where every stroke of the sword was met with defiance, and every drop of blood spilled was a tribute to the indomitable spirit of those who dared to fight.

And so, the ladders of war became a gateway to glory or oblivion, where men climbed ever higher in pursuit of victory, their hearts ablaze with the fire of a thousand suns, while the world below trembled in the shadow of their conquest.