Thunder at Kadesh (Empires of Bronze #3) by Gordon Doherty

Author:Gordon Doherty
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: action adventure, military fiction, simon scarrow, historical fiction egypt, age of empires, ancient war heroes, epic fast paced desert voyage odyssey farflung, military fiction thrillers, beach reads 2020 2021, revenge vengeance
Publisher: Gordon Doherty

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Dagon loped through the empty corridors of Gargamis, the chaotic sounds of the battle outside floating in through the arched windows in strangled echoes and muffled cries. His friends were dying out there, while he scrambled like a madman in search of… what, exactly? It was like running a race, full-pelt, without knowing where it ended. He skidded into Viceroy Shahuru’s grand dining hall. It had to be here. But no, the cavernous hall was simply appointed with a table in the centre that would have looked at home in a barrack house. Sharp screams and smashes of bronze rose every few moments from the ford and sailed through the windows, each like a whip, driving him on. He took great strides around the table, pulling at his hair, eyes combing every inch of the bare stonework of the hall. Apart from a few small buckler shields and crossed spears mounted as ornaments, the walls were featureless. ‘It has to be here, it has to be,’ he stammered over and over.

Sky, perched on the dining hall windowsill, shrieked at him over and over.

‘In the name of the Gods, Sky, let me think,’ he roared at her. Distracted, he stubbed his toe on the table leg. ‘Ah!’ he gasped, staring at the heavy oak table, wide-eyed. With a single motion that belied his slender frame, he scooped both hands under the table and flipped it over on its side, then grabbed the faded eastern rug underneath and whipped it back to reveal… nothing but stone flags. He tapped his foot on each. None moved, all were solidly-pointed with mortar around the edges. No secret doorway here.

He heard a defiant shout float in from the battle outside: a Hittite oath that twisted into the shriek of a dying man. Then he heard General Tanku bawl over and over. ‘Stand firm, with me,’ and Hattu’s ragged and desperate cry: ‘For the Gods, for your sacred lands, hold on, just a little longer!’

Fiery panic shot through Dagon. Their lives were in his hands. The lives of the countless men in the great Hittite column a short way west were in his hands too. The fate of the world rested upon his shoulders. He staggered backwards from the hall, then stumbled along the corridor, hurdling the tangled bodies of a slain Assyrian archer and a semi-decapitated Storm man from the earlier skirmish. He passed many storerooms, larders, slave quarters and then… Shahuru’s sleeping chambers. He had nearly passed it by, for the bedroom too was that of a soldier – despite the viceroy’s high status – apart from the timber frame in one corner bearing his bronze battle armour. Dagon searched the walls and the cupboards, under the box-bed – even looked around the balcony that hung over the inner courtyard.

Nothing.

‘Sir,’ a hoarse cry rose from outside, over the din of battle, ‘I can’t hold, I can’t hold, I can’t ho-’ it ended in a wet scream.

Sky shrieked again, somewhere in the courtyard. Dagon raised a shaking fist and uttered some nonsense curse at the bird, then let his head fall into his hands.

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