Morgan Rice - An Oath of Brothers

“Brothers and sisters!” Darius suddenly yelled, jumping up onto a boulder in the center of the fort, ten feet above the crowd, demanding attention.

One by one, they all turned and quieted, as the organized chaos turned to rapt attention, all eyes on Darius.

“Tonight, we shall march on Volusia!” he called out. “Sharpen your swords, prepare yourselves: tonight is our night for victory, and no one, not any man, will take it away from us!”

The crowd cheered wildly as everyone raised their swords and banged them together, a clanking rising up and spreading all throughout the fort. Darius heard the first true wave of optimism he had heard since he began this war. He could see that all these people now looked to him with trust. With confidence. They could all taste freedom, as he could. After all these years, all these generations, it was so close.

Just one final battle away.

Darius led the charge through the night, Dray beside him, heart slamming in his ears as he led his men out of the safety of Volkara, opening its massive gates, and into the open desert. Hundreds of men, swords in hand, followed on his heels. They ran quickly, barefoot, as Darius had ordered, stealthily through the night, racing over the hardened desert ground towards Volusia, looming on the horizon. Beside him ran Raj, Desmond, Kaz and Luzi, along with dozens of his brothers, all of them running for their lives. This, Darius knew, could be their last attack before being completely free men. Darius imagined liberating all the slaves inside Volusia, and it urged him on to run even faster.

As they neared the city, Darius turned and led his men into the woods surrounding it, entering through the trails for cover, weaving in and out in the direction of Volusia. Darius was scratched by branches, but he didn’t care; he took the trails, allowing them to lead him in a big circle around Volusia and toward its rear gate, as Godfrey had instructed.

Darius stopped and signaled for his men to stop behind him, at the periphery of the wood. He stood there, breathing hard, looking out at the city, tightening his grip on the hilt of his sword. He watched the black sky, waiting patiently for Godfrey’s signal.

Behind him he could hear all his men, breathing hard in the night, could feel their anxiety, their excitement. Their desire for vengeance. For freedom. Their desire to end this war with one great battle. It was a desire that Darius shared.

Darius stood there, sweating, trying to stem his hard breathing as he looked into the night, proud of his people for being so silent, so patient, as they waited. They had much more will and discipline than he could have ever imagined. They had become a true army, one village blending with the next, all fighting seamlessly together, all united under one cause.

“Did he say a torch?” Raj asked, staring at the sky with all the others.

Darius watched, too, and it felt like forever.

Darius nodded, watching the starlit sky for any sign. A million doubts and worries passed through his mind as he did. What if the letter was wrong? A fake? What if the signal never came?

“What if it was all just bluster?” Desmond asked the question on all of their minds. “The ramblings of a drunken fool?”

Darius stared into the night, wondering.

“He may be a drunk,” Darius said, “but he is the son of a King. Gwendolyn’s brother. I see more in him. I see a King in him. A soldier’s heart. He will come through.”

“I hope you’re right,” Kaz said. “We risk the lives of all of our people to put our faith in him.”

Darius stood there, watching the skies, his heart pounding in anticipation.

Godfrey, come on. Give me the sign.

Darius clenched and re-clenched the hilt on his word, his palms sweating, burning to use it.

Darius examined Volusia’s stone walls, its rear gate, a massive gate, soaring fifty feet high, made of solid iron. Darius found it strange that the gate wasn’t guarded. There should be dozens of guards both outside and inside it. He took hope in that. Perhaps Godfrey had paid off the right people in preparation.

Suddenly, Darius’s heart soared as a great light filled the night sky: Darius looked up to see a single torch, burning, high atop the parapets of Volusia. He saw Godfrey standing there, beneath its light, holding it high overhead.

Godfrey threw the torch down, the flames cutting through the black night, until it hit the ground.

“NOW!” Darius yelled.

Darius and all his men burst forth, out of the woods, sprinting out for the city gate, perhaps a hundred yards ahead. They all ran silently, none of them cheering, as Darius had instructed. He could feel the anticipation in all of their hearts, could feel his own blood pumping in his ears.

Darius ran and ran for the huge gate, closing the gap, ever closer, hoping and willing that it would open, as Godfrey had promised, and not leave them all trapped out there, exposed. It was a run of faith.

They came ever closer, running over the small drawbridge, over the moat, all of it unguarded, running the final thirty yards, then twenty….

Come on, Darius thought. Open the gate. Open it!

Finally, the gate began to open, as planned, slowly, with a creak, higher and higher, and Darius felt a rush of relief as he and his men reached it, clearing it just in time, not having to slow as they all kept running and poured right into the streets of Volusia.

Darius raced forward, right into the streets of Volusia, amazed to actually be inside this legendary city, this place that had been so feared by his people for so long. He went charging into the streets, sword held high, as did the others, expecting to surprise Volusian soldiers. They ran and ran, deeper into the streets, and everywhere he went, he was perplexed.

There were no soldiers anywhere. The streets were deserted. There was not a sound to be heard.

Darius finally came to a stop, realizing something was wrong. He turned around and looked back over his shoulder and saw all of his men, who had followed him into the city, standing there, holding their swords, equally puzzled. They all eventually turned and looked to him for answers.

Darius looked behind them and saw in the distance, outside the open gate, Zirk. He stood outside the city walls, the other half of the slave army with him. For some reason, he was not following them all in.

Darius looked at him, confused, trying to understand what was happening.

Suddenly, the sound of a horn tore through the night, followed by a great outcry, sounding like the battle cry of a million men, echoing off the streets of Volusia.

Darius turned and he felt his stomach drop as he saw an endless stream of Empire soldiers charging them, pouring in behind them through the open city gates, swords held high, blocking their exit.

There came another cry, and Darius turned to see Empire soldiers pouring in for them from every direction, every street of Volusia. There must have been thousands of them. And they were all waiting. They had all been prepared.

They swarmed through the city, closing in on them like ants. Darius turned in every direction, with dread, to see that his men were completely surrounded.

In moments, great cries rose up, as the Empire began slaughtering, closing in on his men left and right. A great wave of blood and destruction was coming toward them. And there was absolutely nowhere left to turn.

Darius looked up high at the city wall, and the torch was now extinguished. All he could see was Godfrey’s face, looking down, horrified, as if he, too, had been betrayed.

Darius could not believe it. He’d been led into a trap. He and everyone he knew and loved—all of them, all because of him. They’d all been betrayed. And now there remained nothing for any of them except cold, cruel death.