By Alex Rutherford
The second one captivating installment in Alex Rutherford's Empire of the Moghul sequence. 1530, Agra, Northern India. Humayun, the newly-crowned moment Moghul Emperor, is a lucky guy. His father, Babur, has bequeathed him wealth, glory and an empire which stretches 1000 miles south from the Khyber move; he needs to now construct on his legacy, and make the Moghuls valuable in their forebear, Tamburlaine. yet, unbeknownst to him, Humayun is already in grave probability. His half-brothers are plotting opposed to him; they doubt that he has the power, the desire, the brutality had to command the Moghul armies and make them still-greater glories. maybe they're correct. quickly Humayun might be locked in a negative conflict: not just for his crown, not just for his existence, yet for the life of the very empire itself. (less)
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Additional resources for Brothers at War (Empire of the Moghul, Book 2)
One black-bearded guy used to be swifter than the others, dismounting and attempting to pull his musket from its thick fabric bag tied to his saddle. Humayun became his horse in the direction of the musketeer and, gripping his sword in his correct hand, ducked low to his horse’s neck as he steered his mount on, all options of command and future banished from his brain through the visceral intuition to outlive, to kill or be killed. inside moments he was once at the guy, who was once nonetheless suffering to top his musket. Humayun slashed at his bearded face and down he went, blood pouring from his wound, underneath the hooves of the attacking cavalry. Humayun used to be good into the enemy column now, slicing and slashing as he rode. by surprise he was once via, pulling up his snorting, panting horse as his males rallied round him. instantly he had adequate males, Humayun charged again into the column a moment time. A tall Gujarati lower at him along with his curved sword, remarkable his breastplate and knocking Humayun again within the saddle. As Humayun struggled to regulate his rearing horse, the Gujarati rode at him back and, overeager to complete his sufferer off, aimed a swinging sword reduce at Humayun’s head. Humayun reacted instinctively, ducking lower than the blade which hissed during the air simply above his helmet. earlier than the Gujarati may well get well, Humayun fast thrust Alamgir deep into his stomach. because the guy dropped his sword and clutched the wound, Humayun coolly and intentionally struck in the back of his opponent’s neck, nearly severing his head from his shoulders. Glancing approximately him, Humayun observed throughout the billowing pink airborne dirt and dust that the Gujarati column used to be disintegrating. a number of the horsemen have been galloping away in panic. Others in the midst of the column have been, notwithstanding, supplying stouter resistance, protecting the wagons which most likely contained the bags and the cannon. Humayun knew that no matter if he captured them, he wouldn't manage to hold off any cannon simply because they'd decelerate his strength whose complete function was once speedy raiding. notwithstanding, he may well disable them. With the blood of conflict thumping in his veins and yelling to his trumpeter to sound the order to persist with him, Humayun instantly charged in the direction of the bags wagons. by surprise he heard the crack of a musket – then of one other. the various Gujarati musketeers had received their guns into operation and have been firing from the canopy of the bags carts. one of many horses galloping ten yards from Humayun used to be hit, falling headfirst into the airborne dirt and dust and catapulting its rider to the floor the place he lay twitching a second prior to the horses of his comrades following at the back of kicked and tossed him underneath their hooves, extinguishing any existence lingering in his physique. Humayun knew that he needs to achieve the wagons earlier than the musketeers may well reload. Waving Alamgir once again, he kicked his horse on and shortly was once one of the carts. He minimize at one musketeer who was once endeavouring with shaking palms to ram the steel ball down into the lengthy barrel of his musket with a metal rod. Struck throughout his face, the guy collapsed, shedding his weapon.