The Flame Reawoken: The Restoration of Zoroastrian Persia (REVIVED)

Thanks!

As an aside, I suppose I could go ahead and post more of it. No reason to drag it out, I guess. It's just going to be a while before viii comes out.

Here's the first seven then.


the flame reawoken
i

The sun beat down upon the brow of the weary soldier. The Arab forces marched through Aspahan towards the east. There were rumors from the east of resistance to the invaders in the mountains, but that would hardly help anyone here. The people toiled under the weight of this oppression. Yet, the sun still shone. Ahura Mazda had not abandoned the people. It would be by his will that the invaders would be smote. Dripping with sweat, the soldier bent his knee down onto a rock next to him, pondering this consideration. If he fought not in the name of his ambition, but for freedom and the faith of the land, he could rule. Even the mighty Arab armies would fall at his feet before the anger of the people roused. Tears began to well up in his eyes. It had been nearly four years since the death of the Shahanshah had been reported. For four years, there had been no hope. Only faith in Ahura Mazda would be the salvation of Eranshahr. The man stood, determined to change the way things were.

Sneaking into Aspahan was easier than he had expected. There were few Arabs left in the town after the depature of the main army eastward. This gave him an idea: the Arab army was marching into unfamiliar territory. If he could rally the townspeople, they could trap the army in the mountains to the east. Trapped, the army would be at a severe disadvantage. They might just be able to win a battle! There was a village near there that he had visited recently: the people were very resistant to the Arab rule. Additionally, this particular Arab army was fresh from the west. They dd not know the lay of the land to the east.

The soldier strode to the center of the town, and waved to many of the passing citizens.
"People of Aspahan! I have brought you here today in our common hatred of the Arab oppressors! We need not choke under their tyranny. It is time that the rule of Ahura Mazda be restored to all of Eranshahr! The Arabs are rich and skilled in the ways of war, indeed, but Ahura Mazda is with us! Look at the portends this day has brought! The sun burns with a ferocity unmatched, and the Arabs have forsaken their garrison of this town! We must follow that army, and ambush them in the foothills. We will fall upon them in vengenace for the Shahanshah, and all our kin and friends who they have butchered! Eranshahr can yet be free: if you will follow me. With your support, we can make Eranshahr great again! The land cries out for freedom: would you let it go unanswered? I served in the armies of the Shahanshah, and I call any fellow veterans to me, to strike at the invaders once again! If any of you truly love your homeland and your faith, you will follow me. I bid you stand, men of Eranshahr!" He roared.

The effect was seismic in its intensity.

All across the town, shouts of anger flared up in the crowds. Citizens rushed against the few remaining Arab soldiers, and tore them to pieces in their fury. The weapons of the city still remaining were quickly set out in the center of the town, and distributed to all the eager men who answered the call to arms. Women too, some of whom knew the passages in the mountains as well came, as the whole city was united against the Arab menace. The toil of the citizens lasted only a few hours, as they were intent on catching the Arab army before they could escape their reach and extend the grip of tyranny further across the land. Looking at the dedication of the people of the town, the soldier slowly broke into a smile. These people would be his road to power. Through them, he would posture himself as the liberator and savior of Eranshahr, and gain dominion over the land for himself.

"We leave in three hours to start after the Arabs!" He shouted.



1)-Aspahan is today called Isfahan
2)- Yes, I appropriated a Trump-ism, a LOTR phrase, and some Shakespeare all in one speech.


the flame reawoken
ii

The march of the able-bodied of the town eastward could be heard for a great distance. They were practically running in order to catch the Arab army. Foremost among the number they had assembled was a young man who had arrived at the town not too long before the call to arms. With him he had brought a band of the remnants of the Sassanid army. From this nucleus of an actual fighting force, the citizens of Aspahan were being drilled into a new army. The pursuit lasted around two days, due to the waylaying of the Arab army by their own inexperience with the land as well as by unsympathetic villagers in the mountains. The citizens were hungry for a battle. They were untested in battle, but filled with all the conviction of the finest warriors Eranshahr had ever seen. Not all the armies of the Caliphate or the other mighty powers of the world could have stopped them that day. Or at least they felt that way.

They approached the Arab tents in the dark of the night, quietly stepping through the rocky terrain of the foothills of the eastern Zagros. The first Persian soldier motioned two others over to where he had managed to slip undetected, right next to an Arab tent. They quickly made their way to him, careful not to make any noise. Slowly, they opened the front of the tent to reveal a sleeping Arab commander. The first soldier picked up a fine sword lying upon the ground next to the soldier and ran him through with a savage glee. This brutal show of force would hardly be the last that night. As the scream of the dying soldier rang out through the camp, the Persians barged into the tents from all sides, falling upon them like a hurricane. Hundreds were slaughtered within minutes as the unsuspecting Arabs were caught off their guard. The few who were aware of the attack fought back, easily dispatching many of the untrained Persians before succumbing to the sheer number of their enemies. The blood of the encounter turned nearby streams red, and the air thickened with the stench of death for many days. A few members of the Arab army tried to flee, towards Rashidun-controlled towns in the east. The first to strike at the Arabs that night caught up to them and killed them as well. It was the young man from the Sassanid army.

Returning to the main force that had marched out of Aspahan, he was greeted as a hero. All the provisions and armaments were seized from the remnants of the night camp. The citizens of the town and the nearby villages rejoiced at a victory against their great foe. However, one man was not happy. It was he who had started this whole thing. That upstart stole his glory! He had rallied the whole city and now countryside to revolt, only to get none of the credit for it. Bitter though he was, he would not stop the tide rising against the Arabs. No! He would send this threat in his own ranks off on a suicide mission, and then there would be no obstacle to his power over the revolt! Grimacing that it had been his revolt, the soldier simply known as Ormizd went to sleep. The rest of the army slept that night, flush in their great triumph. The Arab menace had been halted at last! They would now swing east, gathering forces as they dispelled the local garrisons with the weapons they now possessed, before heading back west with new recruits to drive the Arabs out of Eranshahr. Or at least, they planned that.

1)- regarding a map to show the territory of the Persian resistance... there really isn't anything to show yet besides a little dot for Aspahan. A map will come in due time.

the flame reawoken
iii

The passage of the victorious Persians to the east proceeded apace. Trudging through the hostile landscape, the soul of the Sassanid Empire lived on. Here was the last free Persian army in all of Eranshahr, who sought to restore the fire temples to their old glory and capture the seat of power at Ctesiphon. However, all was not well in the army. There was dissension amongst different emerging factions. The main thing that was driving a wedge between the factions was the question of who the next Shahanshah would be. The House of Sasan had been all but extinguished: its last surviving members rumored to be hiding far to the east. The new Shahanshah would most likely be one of the assembled men of the army. The emerging factions had rapidly consolidated themselves under Ormizd, the inspiraton for the revolt, and the young soldier whom none even knew the name of, that had been the most valiant of them all. Nominally the leader, Ormizd grew ever more fearful of the rising influence of the young man. To this end, he was at last given a chance to dispose of his rival when the army reached Bardasir.

Bardasir was an old city, founded by Ardashir I at the beginning of the Sassanid rule of Persia. It had fallen to the Arabs 13 years beforehand: but still contained a sizable Zoroastrian population. The walls of the city were some of the highest east of the Zagros: as Bardasir had been a military outpost by design. The city was filled with an Arab garrison. As the young man set off towards it with his company, Ormizd grimaced at all the fighters he was going to lose just to secure the death of one man. The young man stood on a bluff outside the city, and surveyed the lay of what they were attacking. The great rounded walls were too tall to climb, and so they would have to force their way through the door. The young man remembered Ormizd's orders: kill any who leave the city. The brutality of their leader was stunning. He had no goal other than bathe the whole land in blood! And now he was would sit and watch this entire force be destroyed! Now had come the time, for the sake of Eranshahr, to stop following the advice of this evil man. Eranshahr would not be restored by great efforts on the battlefield, but the original spark of hope carried unto the people of Aspahan, which would burn the Caliphate down amidst a sea of Persian fury.

The young man decided upon a course of action to force his way into the city. He would wait until a Zoroastrian citizen came outside, and convince them to leave the gate open overnight. Nothing else was liable to work. The defenses of the Caliphate were simply too strong, the city too much for such a small force of twenty men to take. Hours later, a Zoroastrian farmer walked outside the gate, whereupon the soldiers grabbed him.

"Farmer, you need not fear us! We have come to liberate your city and the rest of Eranshahr from the Arab yoke! We need your help. Tonight you must leave the gate of Bardasir open so that we may enter unbeknownst to the garrison." The young man pleaded.

"What you say is... nice to hear. But why can I trust you. Who are you to deserve any of my trust? Noble may your cause be, but I cannot tell the ends to which it goes." Spoke the farmer.

"My friend, see you this scar upon my leg? It is borne from 25 years ago, when I was but a boy. I have fought my entire life for the people of Eranshahr. That reason is because I am the rightful King of Kings, I am Ardashir III. The treacherous members of the court did not actually kill me. You can see here, I have kept in my pocket a royal insignia this entire to reveal when the time was right. Go, tell all the people of Bardasir that their Shahanshah marches upon them with an army to drive out the Arab menace, liberate all of Eranshahr, and claim his birthright." He wept.

His assembled soldiers, who had not heard this, wept as well. The farmer too wept, joyous in the revelation of their deliverance.

"This I will do, Shahanshah." He said solemnly.

The man walked back inside the dark gates, as Ardashir and his men waited for their chance to strike.

1)- Bardasir is today Kermān.
2)- 25 years ago is 630, when Ardashir is said to have been executed.
3)-"Ardashir" has indeed had a rough life fighting, but he's a thief by trade. It's how he got the insignia.



the flame reawoken
iv

Silence filled the night. The stars shone from the heavens like glittering diamonds, alone moving at all in the absolute darkness. The dark gates of Bardasir loomed in the distance, perhaps 30 paces away. Ardashir and his men sat, waiting for a sign. It was clear to him now that he had been meant to die on this mission. Why else would no reinforcements have been sent? No one could take Bardasir with 20 men! In spite of this, he had resolved to do so. It wasn't a matter of a ability: Eranshahr had to be free. It had been free for many hundreds of years. It was simply the natural order of things. Ardashir had risen himself to his feet in anger, crushing some loose dirt underneath him. The cold air of the night left his compatriots shivering alongside him. The breeze battered at them, leaving them even further chilled. This did nothing to impact their resolve.

Suddenly, a distant creaking sound could be heard as the gates of Bardasir shifted open. A cloaked figure stood at the doorway, motioning the far-off soldiers inside. They quietly approached the door, and saw underneath the cloak the farmer from earlier that day. He held a dagger concealed in his pocket.

"The people are with you," he whispered. "Attack now, and the Arabs are fast asleep. The people will fall upon them in fury."
"This we shall do then," assented Ardashir.

The screaming of the first soldier killed woke most of the others. Many of the soldiers woke to find angry peasants that had appropriated their own weapons standing above them, and thirsty for their blood. The city, like Aspahan, was soon bathed in blood. The inner citadel was all that remained. Tall and imposing, the soldiers could hold out there indefinitely, and from it harass the town. The people marched on the tower, but the gates had been shut from the inside and were too strong to break. Tossing aside his sword, Ardashir fell to the ground in front of the citadel. The puzzled villagers and soldiers looked on with confusion. Ardashir began to feel the contents of the earth beneath the citadel. It was built on unstable dirt, just like that which he had crushed not too long ago on the outside of the city.

"All of you, get shovels! We will dig underneath the citadel! Any archers among us: keep your arrows tuned to the top of the tower, lest they harass us as we dig them out," roared Ardashir.

Soon, 30 men had begun digging under the mighty gate. Ardashir marvelled at the incompetence of the builder, to put such a strong gate aloft such weak soil. Soon, a hole underneath the gate began to form. Digging for another hour, the citizens climbed up into the citadel, to the shock of the Arabs still inside. A rain of swords and arrows flew into the hole, but it was not enough. The rush of the people outside of the hole was like a buildup of seismic energy, as they leapt out and hacked away at the defenders. They raced further and further up the citadel, taking heavy casualties as they went but losing no amount of resolve. A few stayed behind and forced the great gate open, as even more of the town poured into the citadel.

The defenders by now had been driven back to just the top level of the tower, and frantically searched for fiery projectiles to hurl down the rapidly opening hatch to the lower levels. Suddenly, the hatch flew open, as Persians flooded out of it, quickly dispatching the few remaining defenders. They had taken the tower, but at something similar to four times as many losses as at Aspahan. In spite of this, the accomplishment was of a new magnitude. It had been an entire Rashidun army inside Bardasir, and no survivors were left from it. The peril for the besiegers of the tower was not over, however. Having seen movement far above on the tower, and both sides dressed similarly, the archers below had begun firing. The victorious conquerors searched about for a standard to show that they were friendly, and they found one. A ragged Simurgh was found in the cellars of the citadel, and quickly hoisted to the battlements. The archers stopped their barrage as they saw this, and Ardashir moved his way to the edge of the citadel's battlements.
"People of Bardasir! You are free from the invaders at last! Eranshahr yet still lies under the Arab yoke. Join me, rightful Shahanshah, in destroying those who would oppress our lands! We must bring freedom to all the land, and restore the rule of my fathers!" Ardashir exulted.

The people went up in a cheer. As the dawn rose over the city, and the Simurgh gleamed in the early light of the day, the people brought the news of the obliteration of the garrison to the surrounding towns. From every town, eager men came, many of the older ones weeping, as they once again saw a mighty and resurgent Persian army, for the first time in so long. With an army of nearly 3,000 at his back by now, Ardashir left Bardasir triumphant. The Simurgh was quickly made into many copies, which became the official standard of Ardashir's army. While the Arabs still ruled so much of the land, the tide had now turned against them in the entire region. Over the next few days, the garrisons of many towns fled the wrath of the citizens, retreating westward, and often ending up caught by peasant mobs, albeit taking heavy casualties to subdue. Nearly the whole region had fallen to the nascent Ardashid army.

Ormizd heard the news three days later from a messenger.

It was said in his camp that his cry of rage could be heard for miles.

1)- a Simurgh is a mythological bird of Persian origin, similar to a phoenix.


the flame reawoken
v

The Ardashid army marched back to the camp of the main Persian army near Aspahan. It altogether felt quicker, probably because of the vast numbers of men now under the Simurgh. Hope had been restored to the land. Yet, there was an obstacle even before the continued liberation of Eranshahr. Ormizd was still at large, and still carried the hearts of many Persians of Aspahan. It would be folly to continue the liberation without dealing with the possible snake in their midst. He had sent the Shahanshah off to a certain death: how could he be trusted? The blood of the men boiled at this, indignant at the idea that a fellow Persian would betray their rightful ruler. They marched back a great distance in oppressive heat, provisioned by the spoils from the Arab army and supplies from the people of not only Bardasir but also all the surrounding villages. Ardashir trudged onward, grimacing in the heat. The men looked weary behind him, but seemed to have a certain determination to them he could not place: they clearly were inspired to continue going. He laughed a bit to himself, thinking about how he had conned nearly 3,000 men into believing his tale simply because they needed a hero. He could not have that wicked orator undo it all! The men were right; Ormizd had to die, preferebly not taking the rest of his army with him.

They reached the torchlit camp a little after sunset. The sun was oriented against a blood-red sky as it set. The clanging of armor could be heard as the soldiers of the encampment scrambled to meet them. These soldiers had their mouths agape upon seeing Ardashir decked in the regalia of the Shahanshahs, and the massive army behind him. Ormizd awoke at the following commotion. He strode to the front of the camp, pushing others aside, only to see many angry eyes upon him.

"Ormizd!" shouted Ardashir. "You are relieved of the command of this army, in the name of the Shahanshah Ardashir III, rightful ruler of Eranshahr! You plotted to have me killed as I besieged Bardasir. I convinced the good people of the city to aid my detachment and I, and we took the city, slaughtering the garrison. Since, several more towns have been liberated by the enthusiasm we have spread. And now my ranks have swelled. Of course, you already have heard all this. In any case, you can either surrender right here and pay for treason against your country, or I will compel your followers to listen to their Shahanshah, who has come to relieve them from your tyranny and restore them to freedom from the Arab yoke!"

Ormizd moved to say something, but did not. His brow seemed to furrow in an unnatural way, and a scowl was clearly visable upon his face. He stood angry but dumbfounded, having not known about the size of Ardashir's army.

"He has conned you all! He is filth, not some royalty! Now, my followers, seize him and we shall bargain with you, the misguided host!" Ormizd shrieked.

Ardashir roared with laughter. He fell on the ground, crying from the sheer emotion of his laughter. For a few minutes, the setting sun seemed to be the backdrop to nothing in the world but his laughter.
"You can't be serious!" Ardashir giggled. "These people are tired of your oppression. I hold the royal insignia, which I kept with me when I fled the Arabs many years ago. I chose to reveal myself only now because I am now old enough to lead men into battle, and because I am now knowledgeable in the ways of war, from the time I spent fighting in the east with the Onoq Turks. (1) To this end, I have returned to free Eranshahr, and I cannot do it without you, men of Aspahan, as well. I seek only the best for all of us. I will relight the fires of the temples and restore the rule of Ahura Mazda, if you all would only help me in this." He wept.

The men turned on Ormizd, seizing his arms and pinning him to the ground.

"What would you have us do with him, Shahanshah?" Asked a soldier.

"Keep guard over him in one of the inner tents. We will keep him as a prisoner for now." Ardashir had been merciful to the treacherous orator. He hoped that this act of mercy would endear all the men to him even more.

"Now, let us stay here and rest for a night! We must turn back and march east tomorrow, and make for the next closest Arab-controlled towns. We will liberate the east, and when our forces are swelled with the people of those regions, then we will be able to confront the armies that will inevitably arrive from the west to crush us! If we turn west now, we will be destroyed, although I reckon it'd be a close thing indeed!" A couple of the men heartily laughed at this. "Anyway, rest up, all of you! We have a duty to Eranshahr, and heavy eyelids ere dawn will do us no good!" Ardashir advised.

The men cavorted perhaps for longer than was fit, that night. The circumstances, dire though they were, felt quite the opposite to the men. Most of them drunk within the hour, they eventually retired to the sleeping quarters of the camp, with the mobile camp of the newcomers from the east added onto it. The whole army went down to rest. Or at least, most of the army did. Four soldiers had been tasked with keeping guard over Ormizd. They stood watch for several hours over his unmoving body.

_______________

Ormizd groaned at not moving for several hours. Alas, it was essential to his plan for him to do this. He looked around, seeing that the moon had now risen fully in the sky. Three of the soldiers around him had fallen asleep, very drunk. There was only one left, standing with his back to him, gazing out at the moon. This was Ormizd's chance! Ormizd quietly slid a blanket towards him. The soldier turned around behind him to see what the noise had been, but all he saw was Ormizd still lying there, seemingly asleep. It was no harm if the prisoner wanted a blanket, he figured. The soldier then slowly turned his head back outwards, distracted by the distant sound of some people in Aspahan. Ormizd next reached for the dagger at the belt of one of the drunk guards. It stuck a bit, but he manage to pry it loose. Making sure that the conscious soldier was looking the other way, he rose slowly with the blanket and dagger. Suddenly, he jumped at the guard, covering his mouth with the blanket before he could react, and running him through with the dagger. The guard crumpled to the ground, his screams for help completely muffled by the blanket. Ormizd quietly walked through the camp, his sound very nearly nonexistent over the snoring of the drunk soldiers. He left the camp, running towards the west.

The sun rose over the camp, and the soldiers awoke to the smell of blood thick in the air. There was a general panic in the camp, before the body was found.

One of Ormizd's guards had been run through with a dagger, and Ormizd was nowhere to be seen. Ardashir made his way over to the tent, looking groggy.

"Ormizd has escaped then. Very well. We must still march east. The loss of one of our own to that foul traitor is indeed regrettable. No doubt he intends to betray his people, faith, and Shahanshah to the Arabs! He will in time get the punishment deserved by such scum as he. Now we will bury our fallen comrade with the honor of a true hero of Eranshahr, and then we march east!" Ardashir ordered.

The men all mumured their assent, as the three guards still left alive looked pale and shaken. They held their faces in contortions of misery and grief, ashamed of their inebriation when their fellow soldier was in danger. They set him off to be prepared to be placed atop the dakhma (2) in Aspahan.

_______________

The city was little more than a small collection of huts. However, it was rapidly growing into an urban metropolis. Medina had exploded in population in a very short time. It was laden now with the great riches of the old Sassanid Empire, as well as many of the Roman. In the most dignified of the houses in the city, a richly dressed man sat upon a throne. A messenger scrambled inside, panting and coughing.

"My Caliph! There is news of a revolt in the east. Zoroastrians are stirring up rebellion again!" Wailed the messenger.

The great Caliph Uthman, ruler of the greatest empire of the world, sat, pondering this.
"This is no matter! Our armies will crush this rebellion. There are several armies already in the east. The peasants will be no match for them." The Caliph spoke calmly. He had not expected this. The last Shahanshah of those heretics had died four years previous! How could there now be a revolt?

A second messenger ran in, gasping and terrified.

"Caliph... there's... a... new... Shah in... east... our army... completely destroyed," the messenger shrieked, before falling dead.

Uthman grimaced. The east was resisting the righteousness of the Prophet like no other of the conquered lands! It had to be that heresy of fire... Uthman resolved to stamp it out.
"Alert my generals of this," he gestured to the other messenger. "The eastern lands must be pacified and put back under our control. The rebels probably expect us to immediately race after them... do not do this. Let them grow more and swell their ranks. Only then will a well-rested and grand army crush the infidels once and for all! Recall the generals in the west: there is no time to conquer empty desert when the riches of the east lie at risk!" Uthman spoke.

1)- Western Turkic Khaganate. The remnants of the earlier Gokturk Khaganate. Collapsed in OTL 659 AD.

2)- Tower of Silence. Place where the dead are prepared and left in Zoroastrian tradition.

the flame reawoken
vi

It was Shab-e-Yalda (1). The Ardashirid army had stopped in the middle of the desert, east of Bardasir. They had marched seemingly forever, but they would not rest on this night. This longest night of the year was different from the others. The evil spirits would assail them throughout the night lest they slept. The groaning and aching men, tired and haggard after marching so far strained under this task, but each man had another to keep him up. It was on this night that the armies of different lands became one. As they had to talk to stay awake all night, they socialized. Men from opposite ends of the nascent Persian lands grew to trust each other as never before. They were now united under Ardashir and the Simurgh, for Eranshahr, and by hardship. One of the better-travelled men shared a story about distant lands.
"You see, many nations actuallly have a winter holiday around this time," he said, as many of the men looked at him shocked.
"The common theme between all of them, that they almost get right compared to ours, is the idea of rebirth in the dark and cold of winter. That even in the darkest and grimmest time of year, one can light a flame and bring back hope." He mumured.
The soldiers gathered around him were now pondering this. Their quest to relight the fire temples and break the occupation of Eranshahr: was that not like this? Did this holiday not perfectly exemplify their righteous struggle against the Arabs? This lit the men up with a new glee, as the story spread through the camp. Within an hour, Ardashir summoned the soldier who had told the tale to him.
"What is your name?"
"My name is Farshid, Shahanshah." He spoke.
"Farshid, you have brought great joy to the men on this holy night, amidst the grimmest of circumstances. What you wrought by your story may very well be the spark that saves our homeland. I, and all of Eranshahr are in your debt for this account of how things are in distant lands. I know not exactly what you said, or even if you said much at all, but it did the trick nonetheless. Thank you." Ardashir said.
"Shahanshah, I barely said anything. It was the men who leapt to conclusions about the meaning of what I said, when I was actually just making a comment upon this holiday." Farshid winced.
Ardashir shrugged with a smile. Much like the holiday, it mattered less the substance of the thing so much as the spirit of it. The spirit of the age had turned against the Arabs on that night. It now lay inside the hearts and minds of the last free Persian army in the world.

The dawn finally came. The even wearier men lied down to rest in some cases, but it was not to be.
"Get up!" Roared Ardashir. "We must keep marching! An Arab army may be marching here during the day, and they would slaughter us in our sleep! We must march onward. No one said that freeing Eranshahr would be easy, or comfy, or even glorious. It is simply doing what must be done. For the survival of our army, we must continue marching another day." Ardashir exulted. Some men had to be dragged off the ground and hit about the head, as they were nearly unconscious from exhaustion. The weary and bedraggled army marched further east. They were headed to perhaps their greatest battle yet. Ardashir's grand plan of seizing control of the east hinged on one thing: the Citadel of Bam. (2) The citadel was one of the greatest defensive structures in the world. It had 38 great watch towers, 4 entrance gates, a moat, and a massive double fortification wall taller than three tall men. It was the largest adobe structure in the world, to the knowledge of any of the soldiers. The plan was to effect the capture of the citadel into Persian hands. With this, the Arab position in the hostile land could fall apart. The men did not yet realize their destination: even for all their enthusiasm, if they had known, many might have fled at the idea. Bam was still a good ways away: and now there was a problem.

An Arab army had caught sight of them.

The chase that ensued was nothing short of amazing. The desperately tired men ran as fast as they could under not just the weight of their equipment but also their sleep deprivation. Ardashir's army looked doomed for certain. The Arab army behind them was moving fast enough that they would catch them by Bam. Ardashir would have to find somewhere for his army to hide. Fortunately, there was just such a place to the west of Bam. Rayen Castle (3) had never actually fallen to the Arabs, to Ardashir's knowledge. It had the fortifications to withstand an Arab siege, as it had under Yazdegerd, provided the Persians could reach it. The day wore long as the headlong race towards Rayen continued. The first soldiers to see the fortress were confused.
"Shahanshah, what is this?" Many seemed to ask.
Ardashir replied. "This is our salvation. We will hide here and sleep, and when the Arabs reach here by morning, we will destroy them with whatever remains of the defensive capabilities of the fortress."
Many looked confused or puzzled, but with the Arab army fast approaching, they had no choice but to take his word for it.

The old fortress was left open. It seemed that the last Persian defenders simply left at some point, and the Arabs had not yet bothered to capture it now that it was defenseless. The Persians raced inside the great doors, and then shut them against the outside world. Many of them collapsed on the spot, finally ready to rest. Ardashir and a few remaining conscious men took to the task of searching the fortress to find its defensive capabilites. It was well stocked with ammunition, boiling projectiles, arrows, crossbows, and food. The army had desperately needed this. They would now be able to possibly hold the fort against the encroaching army. At last, near sunset, Ardashir and the last of the men rested.

The roars of the army trying to break open the gates startled them awake.

Climbing to the ramparts, the men saw a massive Arab army stretched out before them, already actively besieging the fortress, which looked fine despite their efforts. The men quickly got to their positions, rested from the arduous journey of the previous day. They rained down arrows, stones, and boiling liquids upon the invaders, killing many of them. The Arabs' great battering ram pounded away at the gates, and it held for a long time. However, the Persians could see the gate giving way underneath the strain. They rushed to first back it up with any materials availiable, and then surrounded the sides of the gate, so as to trap any incoming Arabs.

With a sound like thunder, the gate was rent open, flying backwards from the force of the impact, cracking against a tower in the middle of the fortress. Arabs poured through... only to run straight into the Persian swords. The Arabs were swiftly cut down as the first wave of their attack had almost completely been killed. The second wave began to push the Persians back. Resolute, and realizing that their failure would doom the land, the Persians fought with a renewed vigor, breaking through the Arab lines. The rest of the Arab army was ingnonimously routed and fled back west. This victory had come at a terrible cost. Close to a third of Ardashir's men had died. They would now struggle to take a fortress as great as Bam. They had no choice, however. Whatever the great store of supplies they had captured from Rayen, they had little more to be thankful for than their survival. It had been a very close thing, and may have doomed any chance they had of capturing Bam. Ardashir looked on in horror as he saw the dwindled number of men following him east, demoralized in their pyrrhic victory.

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The loss of so many ships even still held strong in the mind of the Emperor. Constantine had nearly died himself in that fateful attack against the Arabs. But now, he heard news of something that may yet stem the Arab tide. There was an uprising in the old Sassanid lands. This might provide the opportunity he so desperately needed. He had been in fear of an Arab attack on Constantinople for some time now, and at the very least, this seemed like it would distract them. Once he had brought the barbarians of the Balkans to heel, he would march into the rightful Roman lands and retake the Holy City. Together- these Persian rebels and his imperial army: they could crush this menace. In the days of their predascessors, such plans had been laid down, but had never fully come to fruition. Constans would not allow that to happen again. Romans and Persians together would drive the invaders back into the sand.

Ardashir III, King of Kings,

I have received word of your exploits. I know not the full extent of them, but I know you have dealt serious defeats to the Arab armies in the east. I wish to assist you in this. I will do what I can to open a front against them in the west, and send you any supplies at the nearest possibility. Despite the emnity of our fathers, we share a common enemy, and for that, I bid you the strength of all of Rome with you.

Basileus Constantine IV, Emperor of the Roman Empire

The note was sent via a lone messenger. Constantine knew not when the message would reach them, but he hoped the flattery included in it would entice Ardashir to further action against the Arabs. All there was left for him to do was wait.

1)- Zoroastrian winter solstice celebration. Explained in the writing, to a degree.
2)- Today the Arg-e Bam, it was nearly completely destroyed in a 2003 earthquake. Now an UNESCO World Heritage Site.
3)- Arg-e Rayen today, it stands remarkably well-preserved to this day.


the flame reawoken
vii

It was a grim prospect. Bam stood, looming over them, the greatest of all the fortresses of Eranshahr. It had fallen to the Arab armies a few years before: now it was the greatest bastion of their terrible rule in the east of the land. There was no choice but to test its walls. To flee before it would condemn the remains of the shattered army to the inevitable battle with the coming Arab hosts. Except, it would be on the enemy's terms. Seizing Bam, however, would bring the whole of the region under its rightful Persian rule and would provide a call to arms for Persians across the land to rise up against their oppressors. Battered, broken, and desperate, the last defenders of the flame of Persian civilization would march on the greatest fortress in the world, armed to the teeth with their enemies, for the freedom of their homeland.

The young soldier couldn't help but to weep about this. Their lives, their sacrifices... it had all been for nothing. Their Shahanshah had revealed himself amidst them to restore their homeland, only for them to inevitably come to grief at Bam. He grasped his spear, sobbing. Many of his comrades were injured or similarly disheartened: there was not a smile to be found in the whole camp. The mood was universally one of gloom, and all hope had been lost.

"It was at this time that the darkest hour of the rebellion against the Arab yoke had come. The army had lost nearly a third of its men in escaping Rayen. The Arab garrison was well-supplied, and the armies of the Caliph were marching east towards the rebel band. Weaker men may have folded under such pressures, as often happened in the ignonimous endings to many uprisings throughout history. These however were no weak men. These were the greatest of the Persians, the equal them each of a Cyrus or a Shapur. They were far from beaten, and held out, even against these odds."
-The Persian Chronicle (1)

A low march was heard on the horizon.

The Arabs had come. The war was over.

Ardashir rose from the inside of his tent, peering his head out. The strain in his muscles pained him, but there was no time to think of that. There indeed was a host on the horizon, but it seemed not like an Arab one. It had not their dress, and seemed to be comprised of common people. So this was it, he thought. These peasants would either mob and kill his force as they laid here beaten, or they would come to aid them. Ardashir could not tell the intentions of these men: it was time to state his own. He raced to the front of the camp, facing the mob. He drew his sword as the sun gleamed down on him, illuminating the figure of a proud warrior.
"How come you, intruders? I am Ardashir III, Shahanshah of Eranshahr. If you should aid the Arab oppressors, for I see now you all are Persians, then you are traitors to your homeland. You are scum of the earth and worth less than the scraps I will leave left of you. But if you have come to aid us in our quest to free the lands of all Persians: I have nought but the promise of better days to offer you. Without you to aid my army, we cannot free this region by taking Bam. It is essential that you join us. I ask not for any vanity of mine own to rule from the palaces of my fathers, nor to enrichen myself with the booty of the Arab armies. I ask for the sake of the people that chafe under this terrible yoke. Now as the ruler of Eranshahr, I call upon you to join us." Ardashir was shaking with exhaustion. The race from Rayen had taken its toll on even him. He collapsed in front of the camp, and struggled to get back up. The host of peasants stood staring at him as he knelt down in the dirt, his head hung and his body near collapse.

The peasants began to sob. And so too did the few men of the camp who did not yet shed a tear. The piteous condition of their Shahanshah, driven to such desperation by such lowly brigands as the Arabs, filled them with rage. There was a moment within the peasant host of confusion. Some had come to report on the location of the camp to the Arab authorities at Bam. Others had in fact come to aid the rebels. Yet this saddening display by Ardashir moved the hearts of even the greediest of the peasants in the throng. A few quick glances and it was all ascertained: this peasant host would march with the army against the Arabs at Bam. Ardashir fainted as men from both groups rushed to catch him.

The dream of a free Eranshahr was perhaps slightly less a dream now. The peasants augmented the army with fresh supplies, and gave them the manpower it would take to storm Bam. Now, all eyes were on Ardashir, as the Shahanshah lay near death from a sudden fever, at the dawning of a new hope for the future he had brought Eranshahr.

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"Basileus! We have news in the west. An army has routed the barbarians!" Announced a messenger, kneeling before Constantine.
"Excellent," grinned Constantine. "Weary I have been of war since the disaster at Phoinike. However, this "Ardashir of Persia" has restored my faith in defeating the Arabs. God has brought us a pagan warrior to assist in the destruction of the heretics of our own faith. (3) With the west pacificed, perhaps for even a month at this rate, I would like to attack the Arabs once more. This time, we will attack by land. If this "Shahanshah" is the great warrior I hear tell of, the Arab armies must be distracted with him. Their frontiers will be easier than otherwise to storm through, perhaps even to the Holy City itself," reasoned Constantine.

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The Arab host had been driven back down the mountain passes. Balkh had been held, once again. (4) The men of the village were weary but joyful. The menace would once again leave them for a while, as it licked the wounds of defeat yet another time.

A messenger came bursting into the center of the town from the south.

"Everyone! Everyone! There is a rebellion in the south and west. The Shahanshah Ardashir III lives! He lives and is among us! Even now he has defeated the Arabs in scores of battles, (5) and he is marching for here at the nearest possible time to free us! Our deliverance is upon us! Our bloodshed has been for nothing, and our glorious country shall rise again."

The effect was electric. All through Balkh, the people were rejoicing. None of them knew the plans of Ardashir and his army specifically, but soon a thousand rumors were about. Ardashir was at the head of a thirty-thousand man army that had liberated half of Eranshahr and destroyed a hundred Arab armies: he had faced the Caliph himself in battle and laid him low. The town was agape and antsy for his arrival to their aid. Word was soon sent to the old Persian army regiments hiding in the eastern mountains. The people had to do every last thing they could to aid their Shahanshah, even from as remote a place as theirs.

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(1)- Shocker here, it's a biased history.

(2)- Retconning previous update where the Byzantine Emperor was named "Constans." Research has led me to find that that is not his actual name: he actually ruled under the name Constantine and was baptized as Herakleios. It was actually a diminutive form of his name that he most certainly would not have signed a letter like that with. So I'll fix that. He is and will be referred to as Constantine IV consequently, and his son (OTL's Constantine IV) will be V and so forth as it would apply.

(3)- The Byzantine view of Islam was of essentially an odd Christian heresy. They refused to recognize it as anything more than that for a very long time.

(4)- IOTL, the Arab armies had to reoccupy Balkh several times to bring it to heel, culminating in 663 with its final defeat. ITTL, the armies sent after Ardashir have been diverted in some cases towards Balkh as well, trying to conquer it in an attempt not attested to IOTL.

(5)- Just the classic hyperbole of victory.