An Oath of Brothers

CHAPTER SEVEN

Darius stood in the battlefield, holding a sword made of steel, and looked all around him, taking in the landscape. It had a surreal quality. Even seeing it with his own eyes, he could not believe what had just happened. They had defeated the Empire. He, alone, with a few hundred villagers, without any real weapons—and with the help of Gwendolyn’s few hundred men—had defeated this professional army of hundreds of Empire soldiers. They had donned the finest armor, had wielded the finest weapons, had had zertas at their disposal. And he, Darius, barely armed, had led the battle that had defeated them all, the first victory against the Empire in history.

Here, in this place, where he had expected to die defending Loti’s honor, he now stood victorious.

A conqueror.

As Darius surveyed the field, he saw intermingled with the Empire corpses the bodies of scores of his own villagers, dozens dead, and his joy was tampered with sorrow. He flexed his muscles and felt fresh wounds himself, sword slashes in his biceps and thighs, and felt the sting of the lashes still on his back. He thought of the retaliation to come and knew their victory had come at a price.

But then again, he mused, all freedom did.

Darius sensed motion and he turned to see approaching him his friends, Raj and Desmond, wounded but, he was relieved to see, alive. He could see in their eyes that they looked at him differently—that all of his people now looked at him differently. They looked at him with respect—more than respect, with awe. Like a living legend. They had all seen what he had done, standing up to the Empire alone. And defeating them all.

They no longer looked to him as a boy. They now looked to him as a leader. A warrior. It was a look he had never expected to see in these older boys’ eyes, in the villagers’ eyes. He had always been the one overlooked, the one that no one had expected anything from.

Coming up alongside him, joining Raj and Desmond, were dozens of his brothers in arms, boys whom he had trained and sparred with day after day, perhaps fifty of them, brushing off their wounds, rising to their feet, and congregating around him. They all looked to him, standing there, holding his steel sword, covered in wounds, with awe. And with hope.

Raj stepped forward and embraced him, and one at a time, his other brothers in arms embraced him as well.

“That was reckless,” Raj said with a smile. “I didn’t think you had it in you.”

“I thought for sure you would surrender,” Desmond said.

“I can hardly believe we are all standing here,” said Luzi.

They looked about in wonder, surveying the landscape, as if they all had been dropped down on a foreign planet. Darius looked at all the dead bodies, at all the fine armor and weaponry glistening in the sun; he heard birds cawing, and looked up to see the vultures already circling.

“Gather their weapons,” Darius heard himself command, taking charge. It was a deep voice, a deeper one than he had ever used, and it carried an air of authority he had never recognized in himself. “And bury our dead.”

His men listened, all of them fanning out, going soldier to soldier, scavenging them, each of them choosing the finest weapons: some took swords, others maces, flails, daggers, axes, and war hammers. Darius held up the sword in his hand, the one he had taken from the commander, and admired it in the sun. He admired its weight, its elaborate shaft and blade. Real steel. Something he thought he would never have a chance to hold in his lifetime. Darius intended to put it to good use, to use it to kill as many Empire men as he could.

“Darius!” came a voice he knew well.

He turned to see Loti burst through the crowd, tears in her eyes, rushing toward him past all the men. She rushed forward and embraced him, holding him tight, her hot tears pouring down his neck.

He embraced her back, as she clung to him.

“I shall never forget,” she said, between tears, leaning in close and whispering in his ear. “I shall never forget what you have done this day.”

She kissed him, and he kissed her back, as she cried and laughed at the same time. He was so relieved to see her alive, too, to hold her, to know this nightmare, at least for now, was behind them. To know that the Empire could not touch her. As he held her, he knew he would do it all again a million times over for her.

“Brother,” came a voice.

Darius turned and was thrilled to see his sister, Sandara, step forward, joined by Gwendolyn and the man Sandara loved, Kendrick. Darius noticed the blood running down Kendrick’s arm, the fresh nicks in his armor and on his sword, and he felt a rush of gratitude. He knew that if it hadn’t been for Gwendolyn, Kendrick, and their people, he and his people surely would have died on the battlefield today.

Loti stood back as Sandara stepped forward and embraced him, and he hugged her back.

“I owe you all a great debt,” Darius said, looking at them all. “I and all of my people. You came back for us when you did not need to. You are true warriors.”

Kendrick stepped forward and placed a hand on Darius’s shoulder.

“It is you who are a true warrior, my friend. You displayed great valor on the battlefield today. God has rewarded your valor with this victory.”

Gwendolyn stepped forward, and Darius bowed his head as she did.

“Justice has triumphed today over evil and brutality,” she said. “I take personal pleasure, for many reasons, in watching your victory and in your allowing us to take part in it. I know that my husband, Thorgrin, would, too.”

“Thank you, my lady,” he said, touched. “I have heard many great things about Thorgrin, and I hope to meet him some day.”

Gwendolyn nodded.

“And what are your plans for your people now?” she asked.

Darius thought, realizing he had no idea; he hadn’t been thinking that far ahead. He hadn’t even thought he would survive.

Before Darius could respond there was a sudden commotion, and there burst forth from the crowd a face he knew well: there approached Zirk, one of Darius’s trainers, bloodied by battle, wearing no shirt with his bulging muscles. He was followed by a half dozen village elders and a large number of villagers, and he did not look pleased.

He glared down on Darius condescendingly.

“And are you proud of yourself?” he asked disparagingly. “Look at what you’ve done. Look at how many of our people died here today. They all died senseless deaths, all good men, all dead because of you. All because of your pride, your hubris, your love for this girl.”

Darius reddened, his anger flaring up. Zirk had always had it in for him, from the first day he’d met him. For some reason, he had always seemed to feel threatened by Darius.

“They are not dead because of me,” Darius replied. “They had a chance to live because of me. To truly live. They died at the Empire’s hands, not my own.”

Zirk shook his head.

“Wrong,” he retorted. “If you had surrendered, as we had told you to do, we all would be missing a thumb today. Instead, some of us are missing our lives. Their blood is on your head.”

“You know nothing!” Loti cried out, defending him. “You were all just too scared to do what Darius did for you!”

“Do you think it’s going to end here?” Zirk continued. “The Empire has millions of men behind this. You killed a few. So what? When they find out, they will return with fivefold these men. And next time, each and every one of us will be slaughtered—and tortured first. You have signed all of our death sentences.”

“You are wrong!” Raj called out. “He has given you a chance at life. A chance at honor. A victory that you did not deserve.”

Zirk turned to Raj, scowling.

“These were the actions of a foolish and reckless young boy,” he replied. “A group of boys who should have listened to their elders. I never should have trained any of you!”

“Wrong,” Loc yelled out, stepping forward beside Loti. “These were the bold actions of a man. A man that led boys to be men. A man that you pretend to be, but are not. Age does not make the man. Valor does.”

Zirk reddened, scowling at him, and tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword.

“So says the cripple,” Zirk replied, stepping threateningly toward him.

Bokbu emerged from the crowd and held out a palm, stopping Zirk.

“Don’t you see what the Empire is doing to us?” Bokbu said. “They create division amongst us. But we are one people. United under one cause. They are the enemy, not us. Now more than ever we see that we must unite.”

Zirk rested his hands on his hips and glared at Darius.

“You are just a foolish boy with fancy words,” he said. “You can never defeat the Empire. Never. And we are not united. I disapprove of your actions today—we all do,” he said, gesturing to half the elders and a large group of villagers. “Uniting with you is uniting with death. And we intend to survive.”

“And how do you intend to do that?” Desmond asked back angrily, standing by Darius’s side.

Zirk reddened and remained silent, and it was clear to Darius that he had no plan, just like all the others, that he was speaking out of fear, frustration, and helplessness.

Bokbu finally stepped forward, between them, breaking the tension. All eyes turned to him.

“You are both right and you are both wrong,” he said. “What matters now is the future. Darius, what is your plan?”

Darius felt all eyes turn to him in the thick silence. He thought, and slowly a plan formed in his mind. He knew there was but one route to take. Too much had happened for anything else.

“We will take this war to the Empire’s doorstep,” he called out, invigorated. “Before they can regroup, we will make them pay. We will rally the other slave villages, we will form an army, and we will make them learn what it means to suffer. We might die, but we will all die as free men, fighting for our cause.”

There came a great cheer out from behind Darius, from the majority of the villagers, and he could see most of them rallying behind him. A small group of them, rallying behind Zirk, looked back, unsure.

Zirk, clearly infuriated and outnumbered, reddened, released his grip on his sword hilt, and turned and stormed off, disappearing into the crowd. A small group of villagers stormed off with him.

Bokbu stepped forward and solemnly faced Darius, his face lined with worry, with age, with lines that had seen too much. He stared back at Darius, his eyes filled with wisdom. And with fear.

“Our people turn to you to lead them now,” he said softly. “That is a very sacred thing. Do not lose their trust. You are young to lead an army. But the task has fallen upon you. You have started this war. Now, you must finish it.”

Gwendolyn stepped forward as the villagers began to dissipate, Kendrick and Sandara by her side, Steffen, Brandt, Atme, Aberthol, Stara, and dozens of her men behind her. She looked upon Darius with respect, and she could see the gratitude in his eyes for her decision to come to his aid on the battlefield today. After their victory, she felt vindicated; she knew she had made the right decision, however hard it had been. She had lost dozens of her men here today, and she mourned their loss. Yet she also knew that, had she not turned around, Darius and all the others standing here would certainly be dead.

Seeing Darius standing there, so bravely facing off against the Empire, made her think of Thorgrin, and her heart broke as she thought of him. She felt determined to reward Darius’s bravery, whatever the cost.

“We stand here ready to support your cause,” Gwendolyn said. She commanded the attention of Darius, Bokbu, and all the others, as all the remaining villagers turned to her. “You took us in when we needed it—and we stand here ready to support you when you need it. We lend our arms to yours, our cause to yours. After all, it is one cause. We wish to return to our homeland in freedom—you wish to liberate your homeland in freedom. We each share the same oppressor.”

Darius looked back at her, clearly touched, and Bokbu stepped forward in the midst of the group and stood there, facing her in the thick silence, all of their people watching.

“We see here today what a great decision we made to take you in,” he said proudly. “You have rewarded us far beyond our dreams, and we have been greatly rewarded. Your reputation, you of the Ring, as honorable and true warriors, has held true. And we are forever in your debt.”

He took a deep breath.

“We do need your help,” he continued. “But more men on the battlefield is not what we need. More of your men will not be enough—not with the war that is coming. If you truly wish to help our cause, what we really need is for you to find us reinforcements. If we are to stand a chance, we will need tens of thousands of men to come to our aid.”

Gwen stared back, wide-eyed.

“And where are we to find these tens of thousands of knights?”

Bokbu looked back grimly.

“If there exists anywhere a city of free men within the Empire, a city willing to come to our aid—and that is a big if—then it would lie within the second Ring.”

Gwen stared back, puzzled.

“What are you asking of us?” she asked.

Bokbu stared back, solemn.

“If you truly wish to help us,” he said, “I ask you to embark on an impossible mission. I ask you to do something even harder and more dangerous than joining us on the battlefield. I ask you to embark on your original plan, on the quest on which you were to embark today. I ask you to cross the Great Waste; to seek out the Second Ring; and if you make it there alive, if it even exists, to convince their armies to rally to our cause. That is the only chance we’d stand of winning this war.”

He stared back, somber, the silence so thick that all Gwen could hear was the wind rustling through the desert.

“No one has ever crossed the Great Waste,” he continued. “No one has ever confirmed the Second Ring even exists. It is an impossible task. A march to suicide. I hate to ask you. Yet it is what we need most.”

Gwendolyn examined Bokbu, noted the seriousness on his face, and she pondered his words long and hard.

“We will do whatever is needed,” she said, “whatever best serves your cause. If allies lie on the other side of the Great Waste, then so be it. We shall march at once. And we shall return with armies at our disposal.”

Bokbu, tears in his eyes, stepped forward and embraced Gwendolyn.

“You are a true queen,” he said. “Your people are fortunate to have you.”

Gwen turned to her people, and she saw them all staring back solemnly, fearlessly. She knew they would follow her anywhere.

“Prepare to march,” she said. “We shall cross the Great Waste. We shall find the Second Ring. Or we shall die trying.”

Sandara stood there, feeling torn apart as she watched Kendrick and his people preparing to embark on their journey to the Great Waste. On her other side were Darius and her people, the people she had been raised with, the only people she’d ever known, preparing to turn away, to rally their villages to fight the Empire. She felt split down the middle, and did not know which way to turn. She couldn’t bear to see Kendrick disappear forever; and yet she couldn’t bear to abandon her people, either.

Kendrick, finishing preparing his armor and sheathing his sword, looked up and met her eyes. He seemed to know what she was thinking—he always did. She could also see hurt in his eyes, a wariness of her; she did not blame him—all this time in the Empire she had kept her distance from him, had lived in the village while he lived in the caves. She had been intent on honoring her elders, on not intermarrying with another race.

And yet, she realized, she had not honored love. What was more important? To honor one’s family’s laws or to honor one’s heart? She had anguished over it every day.

Kendrick made his way over to her.

“I expect you will remain behind with your people?” he asked, a wariness in his voice.

She looked at him, torn, anguished, and did not know what to say. She did not know the answer herself. She felt frozen in space, in time, felt her feet rooted to the desert floor.

Suddenly, Darius came up beside her.

“My sister,” he said.

She turned and nodded to him, grateful for the distraction, as he draped an arm around her shoulder and looked at Kendrick.

“Kendrick,” he said.

Kendrick nodded back with respect.

“You know the love that I hold for you,” Darius continued. “Selfishly, I want you to stay.”

He took a deep breath.

“And yet, I implore you to go with Kendrick.”

Sandara looked at him, shocked.

“But why?” she asked.

“I see the love you hold for him, and he for you. A love like this does not come twice. You must follow your heart, regardless of what our people think, regardless of our laws. That is what matters most.”

Sandara looked at her younger brother, touched; she was impressed at his wisdom.

“You really have grown since I’ve left you,” she said.

“Don’t you dare abandon your people, and don’t you dare go with him,” came a stern voice.

Sandara turned to see Zirk, overhearing and stepping forward, joined by several of the elders.

“Your place is here with us. If you go with this man, you shall not be welcome back here.”

“And what business is it of yours?” Darius asked angrily, defending her.

“Careful, Darius,” Zirk said. “You may lead this army for now, but you don’t lead us. Don’t pretend to speak for our people.”

“I speak for my sister,” Darius said, “and I will speak for anyone I wish.”

Sandara noticed Darius clench his fist on the hilt of his sword as he stared down Zirk, and she quickly reached out and placed a reassuring hand on his wrist.

“The decision is mine to make,” she said to Zirk. “And I have already made it,” she said, feeling a rush of indignation and suddenly deciding. She would not let these people make a decision for her. She had been allowing the elders to dictate her life as long as she knew, and now, the time had come.

“Kendrick is my beloved,” she said, turning to Kendrick, who looked back at her with surprise. As she said the words, she knew them to be true, and felt such a rush of love for him, felt a wave of guilt for not embracing him sooner before the others. “His people are my people. He is mine and I am his. And nothing, no one, not you, not anyone, can tear us apart.”

She turned to Darius.

“Goodbye, my brother,” she said. “I will join Kendrick.”

Darius grinned wide, while Zirk scowled back.

“Never look upon our faces again,” he spat, then turned and walked away, the elders joining him.

Sandara returned to Kendrick and did what she had wanted to do ever since the two of them had arrived here. She kissed him openly, without fear, in front of everyone, finally able to express her love for him. To her great joy, he kissed her back, taking her in his arms.

“Be safe, my brother,” Sandara said.

“And you, my sister. We shall meet again.”

“In this world or the next,” she said.

With that, Sandara turned, took Kendrick’s arm, and together, they joined his people, heading out toward the Great Waste, to a sure death, but she was ready to go anywhere in the world, as long she was by Kendrick’s side.