Chapter 19
Lewis galloped through the stone gates of Thebus, several dozen warriors behind him, all kicking up a cloud of dust in this barren desert, struggling to breathe. It was so hot down here in the south, arid, desolate, nothing to breathe in but dust off the desert and waves of heat. Lewis had never been this far south, and he felt as if he were in a foreign country; he was amazed he was still in Escalon. It was hard to believe that, when he had set out from Magandi, there had still been snow on the ground. The plains of Thebus, cut off by the mountains, had their own, desert climate, and had always been a separate region within Escalon.
It had been a long and hard journey, past Everfall, past the Devil’s Gulch, across the endless, dusty desert of Thebus, one that would break many other men. Lewis had not stopped since Oscar had dispatched him from Andros, leading this small, elite group of Oscar’s best men on this perilous mission. He knew the importance of this mission, knew what was at stake, and knew he could not let Oscar know, not with the fate of Escalon riding on it.
Joining Lewis were the elite of Oscar’s men, all willing to face death unblinking, exactly what Lewis needed for a mission that would more likely end in their deaths than not. After all, taking and holding the Southern Gate, the portal to all of Escalon, the only thing standing between them and Bandrania, would be no small undertaking. The strip of land, the chokehold at the gate, was narrow enough for a few thousand men to hold back one million—but the gate would have to be secured, closed in time, and held long enough for Oscar to arrive with reinforcements. And for that, he would have to reach Fort Thebus first, and rally the local soldiers.
As they finally rode through the high stone arch heralding the fort, this place which lay but a mere day’s ride from the Southern Gate, Lewis knew that Fort Thebus, as the southernmost stronghold of Escalon, was the key. Lewis glanced about and saw the harsh and bland buildings, the sand color blending in with the desert, a place of sand and wind and rock, built of squat, low buildings. It was a place with no beauty to it, as if it all had been sucked dry by the arid sand and sky. It was no place for people, a remote outpost that the warriors of Thebus had somehow managed to live in. Lewis shook his head, marveling at what strong stuff they must be made of to live such a bleak life, so cut off from Escalon. They were the last defense of the south, a place that had always remained loyal to Escalon. And, sadly, it had been betrayed more than any other place, when the weak King had opened the gates and surrendered Escalon.
As Lewis charged through the fort with his men, passing through dusty streets, a place its residents did not even bother to embellish, he saw the faces looking back at him, warriors lined up loosely, with their sandy hair and beards, blond from too much sun. They all watched him skeptically. They were men who squinted into the sun, with too many lines around their eyes, who had seen it all here. They watched, silent, like the plains around them, all their hands resting on the hilts of their swords, as if equally ready to embrace or kill their fellow countrymen.
Lewis continued riding to the main entry of the garrison, surprised to see there were no doors here, no gates. He rode through an open-air arch, the weather so warm here that there was never a need to close doors, a place so barren there was no need to defend it. After all, anyone approaching Thebus would be spotted a hundred miles away.
He rode into the inner courtyard of the fort, and as he did, he spotted more warriors standing about, waiting. Their leader, Durge, stood in their center, surrounded by dozens of his men, clearly having spotted them far off and anticipating their arrival.
Lewis finally came to a stop, breathing hard, every muscle in his body hurting from the long ride with no break. He dismounted, all his men with him, and he faced Durge.
Durge stood there, staring back, expressionless, with his sandy hair and wide jaw and broad shoulders, an inscrutable man, perhaps in his forties. Hand on his sword, as if ready to kill or embrace him, he stood there like a rock, a man who had seen it all, who trusted no one, and who did not care. A hard man for a hard place.
Lewis stepped forward in the silence, wondering if Durge remembered him.
“It has been many years since we fought side by side,” Lewis began.
Durge stared back silently, as the wind howled through this dusty place.
“The battle of Briarwood,” Durge finally replied, his voice slow and hoarse, scratchy, like the sand around him.
Lewis nodded, relieved.
“We killed many men,” Lewis replied.
“Not enough,” Durge added, meaning it.
Lewis studied him in the silence.
“It is curious that you have no door, no gate,” Lewis replied. “What do you do when an enemy approaches?”
For the first time, Durge smiled.
“We need no door,” he replied, “because we crave enemies. We would enjoy being attacked—it is, after all, what we live for. Why should we cower behind gates?”
Lewis smiled back, having no doubt that this warrior’s words were true.
“I bring urgent business from the capital,” Lewis continued.
Durge shrugged.
“Nothing is urgent here,” Durge replied. “And the capital’s business is not my business,” he concluded, his voice cold and hard.
Lewis knew he was facing an uphill battle, and that he had to phrase his next words carefully. Durge was clearly a proud man, and one not to be controlled.
“I know you are free,” Lewis replied. “And that you answer to no man. It is no command I bring, but a request—one that comes from our new King.”
Durge looked interested for the first time.
“What new King?” he asked.
“Tarnis is imprisoned,” Lewis said proudly. “Oscar stands as King.”
Durge seemed truly caught off guard. He leaned back and stroked his long blond beard, thinking.
“Oscar,” he reflected. “A warrior I respect. A serious man. I never thought he would desire to be King.”
“He does not,” Lewis said. “He desires only freedom for Escalon.”
Thebus pondered.
“And what does Oscar request of us?” Durge asked, his tone a bit more accommodating.
“He wishes nothing of you,” Lewis replied. “He wishes to give you something.”
Durge’s eyes narrowed.
“And what is that?”
“Freedom,” Lewis replied. “The thing that no man can give you. The thing that you must take for yourself.”
Thebus watched him for a long time, as if pondering.
“And how is this new King going to give us our freedom?” he asked. “We stand but a day’s ride from the gate. Beyond that gate lie millions of Bandranians. We are flanked by the Sea of Sorrow on one side and the Sea of Tears on the other, and in those waters sit a million more men. What freedom does he speak of?”
Lewis took a deep breath, preparing.
“Oscar does not cower and hide, as Tarnis did,” Lewis replied. “He strikes his enemies harshly and quickly. We have freed Magandi and Argos and Esephus and Kos—and now, Andros. Powerful cities. Half of Escalon is free—and the other half will soon be, too. But we need your help to secure the Southern Gate. If not, we will be invaded anew by the hordes of Bandrania, and all of Oscar’s efforts will be for naught.”
Thebus squinted, stroking his beard, then turned and walked to the edge of the courtyard, to an open arch, and looked out at the dusty plains. He stood stroking his beard for a long time in silence.
Lewis came up beside him, waiting, knowing he had to give him time.
“The Southern Gate, is it?” he said, still looking out.
Lewis waited patiently, as Durge stared, clearly mulling it all over in his mind. Lewis followed his gaze and in the distance, faintly on the horizon, he could see the golden arches of the Southern Gate, gleaming in the sun.
“A mighty thing it is,” Durge remarked, studying the horizon. “Built by our forefathers, a construction we could never manage today. The tallest and thickest structure in Escalon. Built to withstand invasion, war. It has lasted for centuries, and for centuries it has kept out Bandrania.”
He turned to Lewis and frowned.
“Until Tarnis came along,” he continued. “He undid all that in a single stroke. He opened the gates without a fight, made a deal. Worst of all, he told no one. One day we awoke and found ourselves surrounded, prisoners, without even a chance to fight. He betrayed us all. He never gave us a chance to defend the gate, our sacred duty, and that is something we men of Thebus shall never give.”
Durge sighed.
“Now here you come, with a new King, and new promises,” Durge continued. “Our men were compromised once before by politics, and I vowed—never again.”
“You were not alone in the betrayal,” Lewis replied. “Tarnis betrayed us, too. And Oscar is no Tarnis.”
Durge stroked his beard.
“A new King, yes,” he reflected. “But politics are always the same. Power is always the same. How long until your precious new King is corrupted, like all the others?”
Lewis frowned.
“Oscar is a warrior. He has always been a warrior, and he always shall be.”
“Perhaps he shall,” Durge replied. “And yet, perhaps those closest to him shall not.”
“You shall never know until you take the chance, shall you?” Lewis pressed.
He sighed, stroking his beard, pondering. A long, heavy silence fell over them, until finally Durge turned to him.
“We can take back the gate,” he finally said. “That is easy enough to do. Yet holding it is another matter. When the hordes of Bandrania invade, they will come with a greater force than ever. And if Oscar and his men are not at our backs, then this time, we shall all be slaughtered. All of my men—and you along with them.”
Lewis stepped forward and mustered all the seriousness he could.
“You have my sacred vow,” Lewis said. “Oscar will not betray us. He rides for us even now. When we take the gates, when Bandrania approaches, Oscar and his men will show up to help us. He has given his sacred vow, and he shall never betray us. If he does, I shall gladly be the first to die.”
Durge studied him, seeming to be impressed by his seriousness.
“We need your help,” Lewis pressed, sensing this was the moment. “Are you with us? Are you for freedom? Or shall you squat here in this empty fort you call a home and pretend to be free?”
Lewis knew he was taking a chance in provoking Durge, and yet he sensed he had to. Durge’s eyes darkened with violence as his jaw locked, and Lewis could see the anger coursing through him.
But then, just as quickly, he smiled.
“The gate, then,” he replied, and smiled wide. “Today is as good a day to die as any.”