Chapter 83: Aftermath of Victory
Late May 1834 – Peshawar
The valley fell silent as the sun dipped behind the mountains, painting the sky in blood-red hues that matched the ground below.
Hari Singh Nalwa rode slowly through the carnage, his massive frame still imposing even after hours of brutal fighting. Beside him, Nau Nihal Singh sat straight on his horse, dust and blood staining his clothes, though none of it was his own. The thirteen-year-old prince had directed the defense with remarkable composure, never once losing control of his men.
The Afghan force lay broken. Sultan Mohammad Khan and several key Barakzai leaders were among the dead. What remained of their army had scattered into the hills.
Nalwa reined in his horse near Nau Nihal and looked down at the young commander with genuine admiration.
"You held that pass like a fortress, Prince," the giant warrior said, his deep voice carrying across the battlefield. "Many older men would have broken under such pressure. You did not. Because of you, we caught them perfectly between hammer and anvil."
Nau Nihal bowed his head respectfully. "I only chose the ground and held long enough for your attack, General. The true victory belongs to the Khalsa — and to your charge from the rear."
Nalwa let out a booming laugh and clapped a heavy but careful hand on the boy's shoulder. "Do not be so modest. Your name is already spreading among the Afghans as the Shadow Blade — a thirteen-year-old who fights with the cunning of a hundred-year-old general. They fear you more than they fear me."
As night fell, the Sikh forces secured the battlefield and the outskirts of Peshawar. Campfires sprang up across the plain while wounded were tended and prisoners taken.
In the captured governor's residence, Hari Singh Nalwa and Nau Nihal Singh met with their senior officers to assess the situation.
"Peshawar is ours," Nalwa declared, slamming his fist on the table. "The Barakzai resistance in this region is shattered. Maharaja Ranjit Singh will be pleased."
Nau Nihal studied the map. "We must move quickly to secure the city and surrounding passes. Dost Mohammad Khan in Kabul will not accept this loss quietly. He will likely demand the return of Peshawar and may attempt to rally other tribes."
Nalwa nodded. "You are right. I will take overall command of the city's defense and administration. Your Mobile Division will be vital for patrolling the frontier and responding to any threats from the Khyber Pass."
Nau Nihal accepted the responsibility without hesitation. "My Raaz network will be expanded immediately. We will monitor Kabul's movements and any stirrings among the tribes. If Dost Mohammad chooses war, we will be ready."
Later that night, Nau Nihal stood on the walls of Peshawar with Jawahar, looking out over the darkened landscape.
"You did well today," Jawahar said quietly. "Holding that pass against superior numbers… not many thirteen-year-olds could do what you did."
Nau Nihal stared toward the distant mountains. "I am not just a thirteen-year-old. I carry the experience of another life. But I must still prove myself every day. The men follow me not because of my age, but because of results."
Jawahar grinned. "And today you delivered results. Sultan Mohammad Khan came hunting the Shadow Blade. Instead, he met the full wrath of the Khalsa."
Nau Nihal allowed himself a small, tired smile. "The victory is sweet, but the real work begins now. We must turn Peshawar into an unbreakable stronghold. The standoff with Dost Mohammad Khan is only starting."
The next morning, Hari Singh Nalwa formally took charge as Governor of Peshawar on behalf of Maharaja Ranjit Singh.
As the Khalsa banners flew high over the city, Nau Nihal Singh rode out with his division to begin securing the surrounding territory. The young prince had played a crucial role in one of the most important victories on the northwest frontier.
Yet even in victory, he remained watchful.
The Shadow had helped deliver Peshawar.
Now, the Shadow would help defend it.