Chapter 53: Tale 5, Ch 4: The Last March

“I am Ramis Drell of the Red Prophets. And I am here to join you, Brother Uldar,” the man bowed in his saddle, showing the dimly red longsword sheathed on his back.

“You are the only Red on this planet not to join,” Bravham said.

Ramis nodded.

“No!” the man running behind shouted as he reached them. He bent over slightly, out of breath and looking briefly for something to lean on. “Ramis, you must not go! You’ll be killed!”

“I don’t care. I must go with my brothers and sisters,” Ramis said.

“But your family is here. Listen to your father, do not do this!” Ramis’s father said.

Uldar looked at Ramis.

“I heard from Norn, a friend of the White power, that you were planning to charge Steel City,” Ramis said. Those in the crowd of onlookers that heard let out a cry of shock. “He gave me your summons, but my father convinced me not to go because he said it was suicide. I changed my mind, but my father wouldn’t let me leave. I thought I wouldn’t find you. I didn’t think you’d pass through my town.” Ramis smiled.

“And lucky we did,” Uldar said.

“Lucky? You think it lucky that you’ve found my son to hand him over to death? You want my son to die at the hands of brutes, uncivilized warmongers?” Ramis’s father asked. “Why do you want to steal my son?”

“I do not want to steal your son nor anyone’s son. Everyone is here by choice,” Uldar said.

“Who would choose to die for nothing?” Ramis’s father reached for his son’s reins.

“I would,” Bravham said.

“And I would too,” Ramis said, pulling the reins away. His horse side-stepped away from his father.

The man stood stunned.

“I as well, and all those here with us would agree,” Uldar said. “But I must find out for certain if this is true. For your sake, sir, and for mine.” Uldar moved his horse to face all of the men and women under his command. He turned to Ramis.

“Ramis, I cannot lie to you and say I won’t need you and every other person here with me. But I also cannot lie and say that there’s a chance you will survive this attack. Do you understand that?” Uldar asked.

Ramis nodded.

“And do you understand?” Uldar asked all the Red Prophets. “That no one including myself is coming back from this?”

One hundred and eleven men and women nodded.

“And do you know that your death is only so I can plead with the king of Grundar?” Uldar continued. More nods. “And do you know that I may not convince him and your death will only serve as a message to others that this planet will not stand for conquering, oppression, and war?”

Very strong nods.

“Then we shall attack and die! What say you to that, Ramis, Bravham, Jarin, Coril, and all the rest of the Red Prophets?” Uldar shouted, lifting his left dagger in the air and firing a blast into the sky.

The blast echoed across the town. Ramis, Bravham, Jarin, Coril, and all others in the Red Prophets nodded, not making a sound. It wasn’t a tremendous and exultant war-cry, with blasts going up like flash-works. No one did anything but grip their reigns in silent determination. To the onlookers, that silence was louder than thunder.

Uldar couldn’t decide if he was happy or sad that at least a few hadn’t decided to live. He turned to Ramis’s father and said, “If your son wants to go, neither you nor I can stop him from doing what he wants and dying for what he believes in.”

There were tears on the man’s face when he looked to his son. Ramis got off his horse and went to his father. They embraced as the father cried.

“Tell everyone I love them,” Ramis said. “Thank you for everything, father.”

Ramis’s father looked his son in the eye and smiled through tears. “My boy, I don’t understand. I don’t think I ever will,” he said as they embraced for the last time.

Ramis then went to his horse and fought tears of his own. The stunned people only stared and wondered if they should leave. Many openly cried, for they knew they’d never see these men or women again.

“We ride to Meric’s Wall,” Uldar said, and kicked his horse.

Ramis waved to his father as he and the other Reds galloped out of Bulka.

It was another easy ride through eastern Severdom. The landscape changed very little, though. The climate in approaching Grundar was much like that of Severdom, save Severdom’s tropical areas to the south and the newer, colder lands to the northwest. They encountered fewer people, but Uldar knew many would come. The wall needed people to supply it with archers and soldiers. And they needed provisions. Towns would spring up and thrive. But for now, the old threat of raiding Grundarian thieves was too strong, even though none had taken place for a century. With the wall, that threat would be erased completely from people’s minds.

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As Uldar had said, they reached the wall within two days’ ride of Bulka.

“Meric’s Wall,” Bravham said in awe of the massive, incomplete structure. “Do you ever think Grundar will tear it down?”

“Inevitably,” Uldar replied, impressed by the speed of the work. It had progressed a good deal since the last time he’d seen it. “Unless we can stop them tomorrow.”

“And we’ll do that,” an experienced Prophet named Velic said as the Reds dismounted and prepared camp. “No one can stop us or our power. We will stop their wars. Just because they’ve formed a nation and defeated a Grundlin army doesn’t mean they’ll beat us. We will destroy them if we have to and live to see the Whites and Golds apologize.”

Uldar smiled and put his hand on the man’s shoulder. He had fought alongside him in the frozen forests years ago, and knew his strength. “Perhaps, but we will need all your strength and confidence, my friend,” Uldar said.

“Confidence we may need, look there. The guards don’t look very happy,” Bravham said, pointing to a company of Severite soldiers coming down from the wall.

The Meric Wall was being built in sections. This part was the first to go up. It stood forty feet tall, with towers spaced out sporadically. It was ten feet wide at the top, wide enough for plenty of soldiers to fight. The massive structure stretched over two hundred miles, from the edges of the Warrite Mountains to the Hern Ocean at the mouth of the Red River. Of course, most of the southeast section wasn’t built yet, feudal Grundlin being a lesser threat, but it wouldn’t take long to finish.

Uldar had said that Severdom thought itself mighty indeed if it wanted to build something that big. It was as if they were placing a mountain range between them and the rest of the continent. Between the ocean on the west, the Warrite Mountains and Northern Forest to the north, and the Ocean Bridge to the south, this wall made all of Severdom completely severed from the world around them. There was to be no gate in the Meric Wall. It was meant to keep things out permanently. And everyone in Severdom was happy for it.

They made camp at one of the unfinished sections. Two towers were built but hadn’t yet been joined, leaving enough room for their column to pass through. But it was guarded. Uldar had a long talk with the captain of the men at the wall. The captain was ordered to let none in, but had never thought anyone would want out. The man recognized Uldar and was visibly upset at the idea of them all leaving. But he didn’t interfere. It was Prophet business after all, and they agreed to allow them to pass in the morning.

“It’s a calm night,” Bravham said, walking up the last few steps of the wall to see Uldar. The powerful man stood watching over the dark stone edge into Grundar. It was later that evening, after a hearty supper. “A good night to see the stars.”

“They’re beautiful,” Uldar said. He was twirling his daggers. “I can see the Iron Citadel, just barely, though. They must have a fire on it or something.” Uldar knew that there, the king of Grundar slept, unaware of what would soon happen. “I hope my son is okay.”

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Bravham said, walking over to his side. “It’s impressive even from this far away. I’ve never seen it before.”

“Few Prophets have,” Uldar said. Uldar twirled his daggers high into the air and used his power to pull them back down, directing them straight into their sheaths. It was a talent he couldn’t do much else with as he hadn’t perfected the art of manipulating his blades. “How are they?”

“Ready.”

“And you?”

“I’ve always wanted to see Grundar,” Bravham said with a smile. “But there’s a saying in Bershalem. If you see Grundar, only see it once.” Bravham chuckled.

They spent a few tender hours talking that last night on the unfinished wall.

It was a pure love they shared for one another, the love of deep friends forged with the fires of tragedy and sacrifice. That was what a Red Prophet was. “Protect good by defeating evil” was their motto. They weren’t slow to decision like Whites who avoided fighting. And they were more willing to seek out to strike down injustice than the Golds.

Uldar slept well, pondering these things.

That morning, they were served breakfast by the guards of the walls. Many of them knew the Prophets from past battles and were happy to serve the bits of food they had stored. The Reds were gracious, but had to depart quickly. They still had a long march to Steel City.

Uldar led his company out and felt good. He knew there was no hope. But maybe Velic was right, Uldar thought as he mounted his mare. Maybe we will come out alive.

They passed over the fertile lands past the tower in the land of Grundar. Scouts were sent ahead to check for anyone in their path to the city. Uldar did not want a battle before the charge, but no one came within sight. None lived between the wall and Steel City except bandits. Uldar knew that soon many would as Steel City grew in power.

The two days up to them reaching the gates of Steel City were marked with tension and worry. But Uldar and Bravham made sure to not look a bit afraid. Uldar was in his homeland, after all, and the Reds found comfort in his unafraid presence.

After a short rest that night, they set out again in the early hours before sunrise. They would need to hurry if they were to catch Steel City before sundown. Uldar wanted the sun at their backs to blind the archers when they charged. He needed all the advantage he could get, and knew the seasoned horses could take the punishment. They were only needed for one short sprint at the end, so they were pushed hard.

No one talked much as the distant citadel grew larger and larger on the horizon.

As the sun crept down on the verge of twilight, the mass of Red Prophets came over a tree-strewn hill and sighted the gates of Steel City. Uldar felt his heart soar as he pushed aside an oak branch to see clearer. Here at the city of his birth, he would either meet his greatest victory or his most tragic failure. It was about two miles away.

At this length, Uldar had the banner of the Sevens Prophets unfurled. Orin, with his great axe, waved the banner holding the symbol of the Sevens Prophets. Orin gripped the black wood of the haft tightly and with immense pride, hoping that all of Steel City could see it. The swirling three colors, shaped to look like The Pinnacle, that glorious headquarters of the Sevens Prophets in Sevens that Uldar had never seen, from the air.

To Ramis, Uldar gave the honor of carrying the red banner of their power. The crimson dagger called Heartsflame blazing on a black background seemed almost real as it shone brightly in the red setting sun. Both banners fluttered only a bit, as the wind was very light.

“They know what’s coming,” Bravham said as she saw Grundarin soldiers scurry around on the walls. They’d seen the banners.

“Maybe, but we’ll get a little closer,” Uldar said, and gave the order for a march. He closed the gap to half a mile. During that time, he could see the panic beyond the city walls. The gates were closed and archers and soldiers by the hundreds flocked to the parapets. The king had prepared a great army, one nearly as powerful as Sever’s old forces. He planned to march on Grundlin and capture its capitol within the next week, and this enormous, well-equipped and ready army was made just for that. None of the Prophets, a little over a hundred facing multitudes of thousands, looked at all frightened.

Uldar gave the order to halt. The men and women of the Red Prophets waited for his order to charge, shifting in their saddles and licking their lips. Uldar took a deep breath and said, “Here we go.”