The war council erupted the moment the scout's words settled.
"The Valthorne are coming," Altansarnai announced to his gathered commanders, his winter-grey eyes sweeping the tent."The Great Khan marches with five thousand riders.They'll be here within two days."
Murmurs rippled through the assembled men.
Altansarnai's lip curled."The Naiman does not wait for his enemies to arrive.We strike tonight.The city is weakened.Starved, desperate and begging for our mercy."He slammed his fist on the map table."We take it now, before the Valthorne can reinforce them."
The commanders roared their approval.
The attack began at dusk.
Siege engines that had sat silent for weeks groaned to life, hurling boulders against the northern wall.Arrows blackened the sky, falling among the defenders like rain made of steel.And beneath it all, the infantry advanced—rank after rank of Altansarnai’s finest, their shields locked, their swords ready.
The first wave hit the walls.
Borjigin defenders, already weakened by hunger and despair, fought with desperate courage like cornered animals.They poured boiling oil from the parapets, wasting their already diminished stores.They loosed arrows until their quivers ran dry.They met the scaling ladders with spears and swords and bare hands.
For hours, the wall held.
But Orda Naiman had not conquered three tribes by failing to press an advantage.
The second wave came harder.The third wave came harder still.And when the fourth wave crashed against the northern gate, something finally gave.
The doors pushed open.The iron groaned.And Orda's soldiers poured through like water through a broken dam.
Chapter 36
Somadinaheardthegatefall from the palace courtyard, where he stood surrounded by his remaining guards.The sound carried—a deep, cracking roar that seemed to shake the very earth—and with it came the screams.
"They're through the north gate!"A messenger skidded to a halt before him, his face grey with terror."Okpalaeze—they're in the city—they're—they’re—"
Somadina grabbed him by the throat."How many?How many came through?"
"Hundreds—thousands—I don't know—they just keep coming—"
Somadina released him.The messenger crumpled.
The city was falling.His city.His people.His throne, barely warm, already crumbling beneath him.
He thought of Azul.Locked in her room, safe for now.He thought of his mother, dead by his own hand.
Everyone he had ever relied on was gone.
All except one.
“Lock the palace gates!”He barked."And bring me Chukwuemeka!"
As usual, the dungeons smelled of death and human excrement.Somadina waited at the end of the corridor, his arms crossed, his face carved from stone, as the guards dragged the old man from his cell.
Chukwuemeka looked terrible—his eyes yellow, his gait unsteady, bones sticking out of worn, aged skin.When he saw Somadina, he seemed to have no reaction, as though he had been waiting for his summons.
"Okpalaeze."His voice was hoarse from disuse."You came."
"I need you."Somadina's voice was flat."The city is falling.The north gate is breached.Orda's soldiers are in the streets."
Chukwuemeka's eyes widened."Then it's over.We've lost."
"No."Somadina stepped forward, grabbing the old man's chains, tugging until he stumbled forwards."You're going to fix it.You're going to negotiate with Altansarnai.You're going to—"
