He made his way down the causeway, his soft-soled boots sloshing on the wet slate. There were workers to his right, on the side facing the river, stacking logs and sacks of sand up as high as they could. Wardens and humans alike hefted and pulled, grunting as they labored in the early morning downpour. The Wardens took their places at the top of the makeshift wall, grabbing whatever the humans below handed up to them.
The wall stretched as far as he could see, thickest and tallest by the river, shorter and thinner where it circled around into land. Ezekai, the Warden in charge of the wall’s construction, was convinced that when Karak decided to strike, he would target this spot. “The Rigon is more than a mile wide, sometimes two,” he had said. “This town was built where it is thinnest. If Karak chooses to cross at multiple points other than Ashhur’s Bridge, this will be one of those points.”
It seemed reasonable enough, but even so, Roland questioned the logic of building the wall in the first place. He’d been there in the delta. He’d seen the might commanded by Karak. Although the eastern god’s forces had swords, axes, and shields, Lerder had little more than sharpened sticks and heavy stones. The true weapons they possessed were few, just those given as gifts in the past by visiting elves. These, combined with a twenty-foot stack of sandbags and felled trees, would do little to stop an actual army, never mind a giant fireball brought down from the sky like the one that had decimated the Temple of the Flesh.
Just as he did every day, he began to doubt his choice to stay behind and assist with the reinforcements. He had wanted to leave with Ashhur, Patrick, and the majority of the townspeople, not to mention his family from home, but he’d stayed because of Azariah. The Warden, who’d kept him from crossing the battlefield to join Jacob after the First Man’s betrayal of their god, was his only true friend in the world, and Roland was hesitant to leave him. Or he had been before Roland met Kaya. Again his thoughts were filled with images of the life he could have with the frisky girl who’d given him his first taste of love. His spirits lifted ever so slightly.
They plummeted again when he reached his destination, a section of the wall that had toppled in the night. A few men came over to retrieve the log he carried, wedging it against the sandbags and rocks they’d used to brace the collapsed area. “We need more,” one of the men told him. Roland moaned, hung his head, and headed back the way he’d come, where a cluster of Wardens were chopping down a thatch of evergreens that grew just inside the town’s border.
More men carrying logs passed him on his trek, their expressions blank, their eyes weary. One of them stumbled, and Roland rushed over to support the heavy log before the man collapsed beneath its weight. The man thanked him cheerfully and headed on his way, whistling as he went. Roland’s blood started to boil. Despite their efforts to fortify the town, none of those who lived here truly understood what was coming. Oh, they understood in theory that there was danger, but just like Kaya, they hadn’t experienced what Roland had.…They hadn’t stared death in the face and lived to tell the tale. He blew a gust of air between his teeth, realizing that they would only understand when it was too late. If the Wardens hadn’t been here to help build the wall…
Damn the wall, Roland thought. Ashhur should have raised one himself, like he did in Nor.
Azariah had been the one to squash that notion. The walls Ashhur had raised from the earth in the settlements along the Rigon tributaries on the way to Safeway were small. Lerder was huge by comparison, stretching four miles in either direction. There were actual buildings here, seven large ones in fact, including Morgan’s Second Breath Inn and Ashhur’s Temple by the Ford. The rest were small domiciles for the people. And there were roads that led from one structure to the others, which were lined with countless hovels and cabins. Unlike any of the other settlements he had visited, everyone in Lerder had a real roof over his or her head. There were no tents or lean-tos save those erected specifically to dry fish or hang grain. Elves, and even some merchants from Neldar, had oft frequented the town in the past, staying in the Second Breath Inn and drinking mulled ale in Barker’s Tavern, which made the town a commercial hub of sorts. It was the only place in Paradise where trade was practiced at all.
All of which meant the barrier had to protect each of the tall structures, extending nearly seven miles around. Azariah had been adamant that the amount of godly power it would take Ashhur to raise a blockade from the ground would leave the deity greatly weakened, and his power would go to better use in Mordeina. Seventy Wardens stayed behind to assist in the construction, joining the mere two hundred townspeople who had chosen to stay. The rest had left with their deity, marching west along the Gods’ Road.
As he scaled a small hill, Roland listened to the grunts and thwump of axes of sharpened stone biting into trees. At the crest he saw Azariah, his short, russet hair standing on end, sticky with sweat and sopping with rain, as he hewed at an evergreen. One of the other Wardens shouted, “Make way!” as the tree teetered and began to fall. A loud crack filled the air before it struck the ground, bouncing slightly on the springing branches. When it stilled, the other Wardens stepped atop it, swinging axes of their own to cut the trunk into six-foot sections.
There was a stack of already segmented logs close by. Roland prepared to lift one of them, but he heard his name called from behind him. When he turned around, Azariah stood behind him, an ax slung over his shoulder. He was naked from the waist up, and rainwater beaded all over his slender torso. His green-gold eyes sparkled in the morning’s relative darkness, and a smile curled his lips.
“Back so soon?” the Warden asked.
Roland looked up. Just like all the Wardens, Azariah towered over him. It was something he hadn’t minded in his youth, but now that he was a man grown, it made him feel insignificant in comparison. They were creatures from a different world, and at times Roland couldn’t help but think they were humanity’s betters, no matter what assurance Ashhur gave to the contrary.
“Need more logs,” he replied, stepping aside so another returning laborer could heft the one he’d been preparing to lift. “Part of the wall fell last night, and we need to brace it.”
“I know,” replied Azariah. He leaned down and offered him a slight jab on the shoulder. “Perchance your midnight madness blew it over?”
Roland’s cheeks flushed and he turned away.
“I thought you were sleeping,” he muttered.
“I awoke when you attempted to sneak into our room,” Azariah said. “At first I thought you might be sleep wandering, but your sighs told a different story.”
Roland shook his head and began to walk away empty-handed, too embarrassed to face his friend. He heard the sound of something heavy thumping against the sodden grass, and then Azariah was by his side, walking with him.
“What bothers you, Roland?” he asked.
“Nothing.”
“Come now. We are friends, are we not? You can talk to me.”
Roland paused and glanced behind him, making sure he was far enough away from the other Wardens. He then looked back at Azariah and frowned.
“We shouldn’t be here,” he said. “We should leave.”
“You know we cannot do that. We must help reinforce the town.”
Roland threw his arms out wide. “But why? What good will it do? We can’t fight an army! What happens when Karak comes? Everyone here…everyone…is going to…”
Azariah grimaced. “The girl. Kaya. You care for her.”
“Of course!” shouted Roland.
The Warden cast a quick glance behind him, then hurriedly threw an arm around Roland, leading him away from the others. They reached a distant section of the wall that was barely taller than Azariah and constructed from flimsily stacked stones, twigs, and branches. When he turned to face Roland, the Warden’s expression was serious, very much unlike the way he usually carried himself.