The Book of Terrus: A Land of Sunlight

Chapter 19 - The Weeping Keep

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What must have been hundreds of stoney-faced clansfolk stared at the Fourth Company as they made their way along the last stretch of the journey to Derbesh. They lined The Running Road on either side; road wardens, traveling merchants, and locals alike. These were R'Tor lands now, and just as predicted the presence of the S'Dirs alongside the Fourth was not winning any friends amongst the Lion Clan. Oshaher rode boldly alongside Captain Jerriod and Lieutenant Neel at the head of the column though, his griffin's feathers shining like beaten gold beside the dusty brown and grey of officers' horses. Tarun, marching nameless and faceless as always amidst the hundreds of other nameless, faceless footsoldiers, wondered what the S'Dir road warden was thinking. He also wondered what Princess Ellorae was thinking. Arriving at Derbesh with a personal escort of over six hundred men, royal army soldiers and clansfolk alike, was certainly going to make an impression. Whether that impression would be favourable or not remained to be seen.

The question of how Princess Ellorae would be received at The Weeping Keep was soon to be answered. An hour before midday on the first day of autumn - nearly two weeks after the Fourth had set out from Geristan - the scouts took up the call that the city of Derbesh was in sight. If the excitement of the S'Dir griffins and their riders overhead was anything to guess by, no doubt their winged escort had spotted the city even earlier. The marching soldiers on the ground nearly gasped their relief aloud. Even though The Running Road only skirted along the northern edge of the Hanara Desert, it had been a long, hot, dusty trek. Everyone was tired, sweaty, and footsore. For Tarun especially, the promise of a proper bed and cool water could not come soon enough; the healing whip welts on his back kept him in a near-constant state of irritable discomfort. Perhaps even a wash would be within reach...

A bath didn't seem like an impossibility, even for a lowly footsoldier. As they neared Derbesh, they also neared more water than any of the mountainfolk had ever seen before in their lives. On their left, to the north of The Running Road, the broad Anders River appeared. Like a blade of silver slashing down across the sun-baked eastern plains, Anders River ran all the way from the mountains at Anset to the sea at Derbesh. The city itself was built around the river, which narrowed and grew swift as it flowed through the heart of Derbesh. There, at the furthest eastern edge of Goran, the final stretch of Anders River would flow beneath the clans' seat of power before bursting forth and cascading down from the palace into the sea. Those famous white curtains of spray - visible to all ships sailing into the Beson Inlet below - gave The Weeping Keep its name.

And O! The sea!

At first, Tarun and the other men of Trosk thought they were being tricked by yet another desert mirage. How could the world possibly just end, all of the sudden dropping away from endless sand and stone into a sparkling blue vastness so large, it rivalled even the sky? And yet the east did indeed have an end. From north to south, as far as the eye could see, there was only the sea, and the dazzling light of a thousand reflected suns upon its surface. So overwhelmed were the men of Trosk by the sea that at first they took no notice of Derbesh. That was, until they found themselves practically at the city's edge. Then the city was all they could handle and more.

"It has no walls!" exclaimed a lowlander soldier marching nearby, gaping open-mouthed.

One of the S'Dirs - circling in for a landing nearby - overheard. Laughing, the clanswoman shook her head at the soldier.

"What use has Derbesh for walls? It is a city owned by all!"

"What do you mean?" asked Berin, startling many by speaking aloud for the first time in many days.