Revanche
The chariots creaked over the despoiled ground, as the thunder clapped violently and rain fell from the sky in sheets. The Qizilbay were finally driven the vile Ra'tran, servants of al-Malik, back to the Southern March of Qanma, and all that greeted them as they approached some of their old homelands was death and destruction. The roads, built centuries before, were cracked and broken beyond repair. Corpses of cattle and their foreboding skulls littered the path. As the road worsened, a few of the chariots could no longer bear the burden of the road. Wheels loosened in quagmire of broken ground.
The forward scouts reported back to the tent of captain of the advance guard, Azir Khatai. "There's nothing left, fellow servant of al-Qahira. There's nothing left at all."
Khatai shuddered violently as he imagined the prospect of delivering this news back to the al-Qanta. The advance guard, as they had so often in the forever war against al-Malik and his Ra'tran servants, would be delivering bad news yet again. They had hoped that some of the old remnants of their villages - any signs of the old Iksander settlements or their people - could be found. It had been a foolish hope that he had offered before the al-Qanta, he realized. It had been centuries - the machinations of al-Malik would never permit his people to go unmolested. Sitting in his tent, before these undistinguished scouts, he began to break down and sob for the people - men, women, and children who had fallen and been enslaved to al-Malik's sword.
Damahs Tanas, leader of the scouts, stood impulsively as his captain collected his emotions. "You know what it is we must do." Khatai looked at him with glossy eyes and nodded. "Antar'ah would do the same."
When they voiced their findings to the al-Qanta, the priest-king's face hardened as if transfigured into stone. Khatai's eyes met his, and they blazed with fire. The Ra'tran would never leave them in peace for long, as corrupted by the false will of al-Malik and his evil as they were. It was time to take the fight to their huts and their villages, so those of the Iksander would never be threatened again.
Thus the Iksander Antar'ah marched to war: on the attack for the will of al-Qahira for the first time. They would fight them in the hills of Geksh so Qan'ma would never be threatened again.
When Damahs's chariot's axle in the south of Qan'ma as they marched there yet again, he gave up on attempting to fix it and attempted to mount the horse. The horse buckled and took off blazing with Damahs barely clinging to his back, until he was finally thrown enough. "Did you see that?" he asked, unafraid and impervious to the pain from his fall. "We can go to war without worry of wheels and axles if only we learned how to ride these beasts. Are you, Qizilbay Antar'ah, afraid? We can destroy the Ra'tran, servants of al-Malik, forever, if we could only free ourselves from these chains of wheels. Do you dare seize the beast?"