Dark Burden

Scene 3

For six days Donahue kept watch over the settlement. Every able man and woman had marched to battle, leaving only the feeble behind. He helped the older children take care of the little ones and elders. All the while, he searched the northeast.

Gallagher, too, anxiously watched the horizon.

The siege could take weeks. On average, the capital had only a thousand soldiers. Scouts reported the majority of the forces stayed in the villages, eating and drinking off of taxes. As long as they approached stealthily, the misfits would outnumber the royal force. Yet, if even one messenger escaped, they would face a monstrous army.

Either way, Donahue trusted his curse to hold.

As the late evening sun began its descent, Donahue finished his rounds. Every elder was fed. The children settled down for bed. Here in the desert summer, the sun consistently lingered for fourteen hours each day, but the little ones adjusted to sleeping in the light.

He inspected the northeast one last time. The two lights glimmered in the distance.

A familiar hand touched his shoulder.

"They will be all right."

Donahue certainly hoped so. Gallagher wanted to support the army, strengthening them and reporting to Donahue, but the lights made him stay behind. Donahue did not understand how, but they were the only ones who could hurt Gallagher. He dared not risk checking on the army.

The lights vanished.

"Where'd they go?"

Gallagher hissed at the question. If even he couldn't see them, had they left? Had they given up? His heart skipped a beat. With the lights gone, nothing stood in the way of building a new world!

Donahue and Gallagher stood on the tower ledge overlooking the settlement and the shifting sand. The lights never returned.

"Get some sleep," Gallagher said. "I'll keep watch."

Donahue nodded. As always, Gallagher spoke with wisdom.

He turned back inside the tower to take a few steps. He didn't get far.

"They're here!"

Gallagher's cry made him turn around. He looked northeast at the unmistakable glimmer of light reflected off of metal.

The army had returned.

He rushed down, wrapped his tan cloth around his face to protect him from an east wind, and whistled for his horse as soon as he stepped foot in the sand. Recognizing the cry of its master, the white beast barreled through the brick houses. Donahue swung onto its back to ride to meet his friends.

Gallagher watched him pass. "Something's not right."

Donahue felt his gut tighten. Gallagher was never wrong. Had they been defeated?

He charged past the rows of empty brick houses, past the tents of the most recent inductees, and into the rolling dunes. The line of soldiers shown in the orange light. With a gentle east wind, the breeze carried the dust from the oncoming horses to the company's right.

Donahue spurred the horse into a run.

The blurry army focused into individuals. Scanning the swordsmen, spearmen, and shield bearers, he identified Bram leading the march. No strangers.

The company drew closer. The natural thunder of horses' hoofs drowned in the stillness of the desert. The sand took even the sound of life out of the barren wasteland.

Bram finally came within earshot. Seeing his leader, the general slowed to a trot. The others followed suit, coming to a complete halt within a few seconds.