An Oath of Brothers (20 page)

“And much more. He was not only a warrior. You see, the blood in you—”

He suddenly erupted into a long coughing fit, unable to speak. Darius watched, tortured to know more, feeling as though all the mysteries of his life were finally opening up.

Finally, he stopped coughing, and this time, his voice was even weaker.

“Your father, he will tell you all,” he whispered, gasping. “He lives. You must find him.”

“He
lives
!?” Darius asked, shocked. He had always been certain he was dead. “But where? Find him where!?”

His grandfather suddenly closed his eyes and let go of his hand, and Darius sensed him leaving.

“Potti!” Darius cried out.

But there was nothing more Darius could do. He knelt there and watched his head fall back limply, watched him die, so many unanswered questions still swirling in his mind, feeling his destiny hanging before him for the first time in his life.

He leaned back and cried a wail of grief.

“Potti!”

*

Loti stood on the far side of the clearing and watched Darius at his grandfather’s side, holding his hand, crying, and she turned away, unable to bear the sight. She could not stand to see Darius so overcome with grief, and she wanted to give him his privacy. She watched Darius’s expression change as his grandfather spoke and she was, of course, burning with curiosity to know what he was telling him, to know what could be affecting him so much. As far as she knew, they had never really gotten along.

As Loti thought of Darius, she realized she had come to love him with all her heart—and even more, to respect him. She still could not comprehend how he had saved her, how he had sacrificed himself for her like that, how he had taken all those lashes on her behalf, had been prepared to submit himself to awful torture and death for her. In some ways she felt that this entire war had started as a result of her actions, of killing that taskmaster who had lashed her brother, and while she was proud of her actions, she felt a sense of guilt. She also felt intense gratitude: she knew that if it hadn’t been for Darius she would be dead by now, as would her people, and she felt more love for him than she could possibly express.

“There you are,” came a voice.

Loti turned to see Loc coming up beside her, a smile on his face.

She looked down and saw the wound on his arm, and her face flashed with concern.

“Do not worry,” he said, “it is just a scratch.”

She examined the slash in his left bicep, his good arm, bulging with muscles and now, covered in dried blood.

“How did you get this?” she asked.

He smiled.

“I might be lame,” he replied, “but I can fight too, sister. I may not be not as fast or as strong as the others, but my one good arm is far stronger than a lot of people’s regular arms. With the proper spear or mace or flail, I can reach an enemy ten paces away. More than one taskmaster lies dead in the field today because of this lame man—and I have just paid a small price for it.”

Loti, so proud of him, was nonetheless concerned at the wound, which seemed deep; she quickly took out a spare bandage from her waist and wrapped his arm, again and again.

“You are brave,” she said. “I don’t know anyone else in your condition that would risk going into battle.”

He smiled.

“I have no condition, sister,” he said. “I am as happy and as free as any man on this earth. Conditions and limitations exist in the mind only. And they do not exist in my mind. I am proud of the state I was born into.”

She smiled back, so uplifted by him, as always.

“Of course,” she said. “I am proud of you, too. I didn’t mean to say—”

He raised a reassuring hand.

“I know, my sister. I know what you meant. You always mean well for me. You always have. You could never offend me.”

“LOTI!” shrieked a voice.

Loti flinched at the strident sound, a voice she knew well, one that sent a chill up her spine, so disapproving, so scolding. She did not need to turn to know it was her mother fast approaching.

She reached them and glared disapprovingly back and forth between her daughter and son.

“Stop this nonsense, whatever it is you are doing, and come with me at once,” she demanded. “Your people need you.”

She looked back at her, confused.

“My people need me?” she echoed. “What does that mean?”

Her mother glared back at her; she hated being questioned.

“Don’t you question your mother!” she snapped. “Come with me at once—both of you.”

Loti and Loc shared a puzzled look.

“Come with you where?” Loc asked.

Her mother placed her hands on her hips and heaved a great sigh.

“A great group of slaves turned warriors, from another village, might wish to join our cause. They only wish to speak to you, as you are the famed one in their eyes, the one that started it all, that killed the first taskmaster. They will not join us otherwise. Come now, quickly, and do your people a service.”

Loti looked back at her mother, confused.

“And why would you care so much about our cause?” she asked her. “You, who are opposed to fighting?”

Her mother seethed, taking a step closer.

“It is because of
you
that this war started,” she scolded. “We never would be fighting otherwise. But now that we are fighting it, we must win. And if you can help, then so be it. Now are you coming or not?”

Their mother stood there, glaring down at both of them, and Loti could see she would not take no for an answer. The last thing she wanted to do was go with her mother anywhere; but for Darius, for the cause, for her people, she would do anything.

Her mother turned and stormed off, and they fell in behind her, weaving in and out of the crowd, following her as she led them God only knew where.

CHAPTER TWENTY

Gwendolyn lay curled up in a ball on the hard desert floor of the Great Waste, awake, as she had most of the night, and looked out into another desert morning. The sky broke in a scarlet red, the first of the suns rising, impossibly large, seeming to fill the entire universe. It cast a somber light onto everything, this desolate place, and already she felt the heat beginning to rise.

Krohn, curled up in her lap, shifted and whined, snuggling against her, sleeping contentedly, the only thing that had kept her warm during the freezing night. Gwen shifted, too, but was in pain as she did, her body still scratched up from their encounter with the Dust Walkers.

Nearby on the desert floor, slept Steffen and Arliss, Kendrick and Sandara, Illepra and the baby—everyone, it seemed, had someone to lie with but her. At moments like this she missed Thor more than anything, would give her life to be able to hold Guwayne. But everything good in the world, she felt, had been stripped away from her.

Gwen opened her eyes, wiping the red dust caked to her eyelids, yet she hadn’t really slept. She’d lay awake all night, as she had most nights here in the Waste, tossing and turning with worry for her people, worry for Thorgrin, for Guwayne. She blinked back tears, wiping them away quickly so no one would see them, even though most of her people were asleep. It was at moments like these, in the stillness of dawn, that she allowed herself to cry, to mourn for everything that she had lost, for the bleak future that seemed to lie ahead. Out of sight of the others, she could allow herself to reflect on all that she had and to feel sorry for herself.

Yet Gwen only allowed it for a moment; she quickly wiped it away and sat up, knowing that self-pity was only harmful and would not change anything. She had to be strong; if not for herself, than for others.

Gwen looked about, at all her hundreds of people sprawled out around her, among them Kendrick, Steffen, Brandt and Atme carrying Argon, Illepra carrying her baby, Aberthol, Stara, and dozens of Silver, and she wondered how many days they had been out here. She had lost track of time. She had been warned that the Great Waste had a way of doing that to you.

It had been one endless march, trekking deeper and deeper into a desert with no landmarks in sight. It had been a cruel monotony. Her provisions were running even lower, if possible, and her people were getting weaker, sicker by the moment—and even more disgruntled. Just the day before—or was it two days? Gwen could not remember anymore—they lost their first victim, an older man who had simply stopped walking and collapsed at his feet. They had all tried to rouse him, but he lay there, already dead. Nobody knew if he had died of the heat, of illness, starvation, of dehydration, of a heart attack, of an insect bite, or of some other unknown malady out here.

Gwendolyn heard a crawling noise, and she, still sitting there, looked up to see a large, black insect with an armored back, a long tail, and an even longer head, crawling up to her. It stopped, raised its front legs, and hissed.

Frozen in fear, Gwen sat perfectly still. It craned its neck, its glowing eyes fixed on her, and a long tongue slipped from its mouth. She sensed it was about to strike. She had seen one of her people die of one of these before, and it wasn’t pretty. If she were standing, she could crush it with her boots—but it had caught her here, in the early morning, sitting, vulnerable. And now she had nowhere to go.

Gwen looked around and saw the others were all asleep, and she began to sweat, thinking what awful way this would be to die. She slowly backed away, but as she did, it crawled closer and closer to her. Suddenly, she saw its armor plates rise up, and she knew it was about to launch.

There came a snarling noise, a scrambling of paws, and as the creature leapt into the air, Krohn, apparently watching and waiting the entire time, suddenly leapt forward, snarling, and caught the insect run in midair in its jaws, just inches before it reached Gwendolyn. The creature wiggled in its mouth until Krohn clamped down on it. With a high-pitched cry, it finally died, green ooze leaking from its body, falling limp in Krohn’s mouth.

Krohn dropped the limp carcass down to the ground, and Gwendolyn rushed forward and hugged him, stroking him and kissing him on the head. Krohn whined, rubbing his head against her.

“I owe you, Krohn,” she said, hugging him, so grateful for him. “I owe you my life.”

Gwen heard a baby cry, and she looked over and saw Illepra sitting up with the baby girl Gwen had rescued from the Upper Isles. Illepra looked over and smiled tiredly back to Gwendolyn.

“And I thought I was the only one awake,” Illepra said, smiling.

Gwen shook her head.

“She’s kept me up,” Illepra added, looking down at the baby. “She’s not sleeping. Poor thing—she’s so hungry. It breaks my heart.”

Gwen examined the baby, the small girl she had rescued from the Upper Isles, and she felt anguished, overwhelmed with guilt.

“I would give her my food,” Gwen said. “If I had any.”

“I know, my Queen,” Illepra said. “Yet there is still something you can give her.”

Gwen looked back, surprised.

“A name,” Illepra added.

Gwendolyn nodded, her eyes lighting up. She had thought of naming her many times, and yet each time she had been unable to settle on one.

“May I hold her?” Gwen asked.

Illepra smiled, stepped forward, and placed the baby in Gwen’s arms as Gwen stood. Gwen held her tight, rocking her. As she did, the baby finally fell quiet, looking up into Gwen’s eyes with her large beautiful blue eyes. She seemed to find a sense of peace, and Gwen, too, felt a sense of peace holding her; she almost felt as if she were holding Guwayne. They were nearly the same age.

It made her cry—and she quickly turned and wiped away her tears.

Gwen wanted so badly to name her, but as she stared into her eyes, she came up blank. Try as she did, it would not come to her.

She handed the child, sadly, back to Illepra.

“When the time is right,” Illepra said, understanding.

“One day,” Gwen said to the baby, before she let her go, “when we are done with all this, we shall have much time together. You will know my son Guwayne. You shall be raised together. You shall be inseparable.”

In Gwen’s mind, she quietly resolved to raise this child as if she were her own; yet deep down, she knew they might not even survive for that day.

Gwen wished she could give the baby food, milk, water—anything. But she had nothing left to give. All of her people were slowly wasting away, and she herself had not had a good meal in days, giving most of her rations to the baby and to Krohn. She wondered if her people would even have the energy to march through another day. She had a sinking feeling that they would not.

The sun rose higher and all her men began to scramble to their feet, her camp soon alive and awake, preparing to face another day. She led the way wordlessly, wasting no more time as the heat grew by the minute, the ragtag procession all beginning to fall back into place, to march, all heading deeper into the nothingness.

“And where to now, my lady?” called out Aslin, in a loud, taunting voice, emboldened once again, loud enough for all the others to hear. “What great destination do you have in store for today?”

Steffen, beside her, darkened and lay a hand on his sword as he turned and faced Aslin.

“You best mind your tongue,” he snapped. “It is your Queen you speak to.”

Aslin scoffed.

“She is no Queen of mine,” he spat. “Not any longer. A Queen leads a people, and she has led us nowhere but to death.”

Steffen moved to draw his sword, but Gwen reached out and laid a reassuring hand on his wrist.

“Save your effort,” she said softly to him, and he grudgingly released his grip and continued marching with her.

“Never mind them, my lady,” Kendrick said, coming up beside her. “You are a far greater Queen than they could ever hope for. A far greater Queen than they deserve.”

“I thank you,” Gwendolyn said. “But they are right. I have led them nowhere. I don’t know if Father foresaw this when he chose me to succeed him.”

“It was exactly for times like this that Father chose you,” Kendrick insisted. “There has never been a time like this, and he knew you would have the steady to hand to guide your people through. Look at how far you’ve taken us already. You have already saved us all from a sure death on the Ring. It was only because of your foresight that we escape. We are all living on borrowed time. Time we were not supposed to have. Time we only have because of you.”