Takan paused, scratched his head, looking between his brothers.

“Do they even have Tainted within their ranks?” he asked.

Ezril nodded. “I’ve fought one or two.”

“And I took my axe off a man who could use it without touching it,” Salem added.

Their attentions snapped to Salem. Clearly, they wondered how he could’ve fought such a man and won. It explained why the weapon was now his first choice. It’s a trophy, Ezril realized.A reward for his victory.

“Or maybe it was done by one man…”

The sound of vrail was so out of place in the conversation that they couldn’t help but be drawn by it.

They turned to Olufemi and found his gaze fixed on one patch of land. The certainty in his voice felt as if he had come across a Tainted with such a strength. It was precise, and morbid.

Perhaps he knows this person.

“…In one blow,” Olufemi finished, and walked away, heading in the direction of the wall. All their fears echoed in those three words.

For a while Ezril had wondered how the Merdendis managed to build a wall fifty feet tall, and long enough to make Noem send them in search of a way into it. The reports of the Merdendi raids before the battles began had spoken of killings and theft. However, they had never been said to steal building materials. Only the essentials: clothing supplies to help last through the winter. But they had stolen mostly food, killing livestock and taking what meat they could this time.

Standing before the wall he understood how they had done it. Impressive.The words crawled into his mind as he thought of Noem’s men.

“Fifty feet?!” Takan scoffed. “I’d bet my life’s pay those men din’t even get anywhere near the darned thing.”

Darvi shook his head in equal disappointment but said nothing.

Ezril had thought the strength and demanding nature of Noem would have at least afforded the captain a level of discipline amongst his men, one Bilvion’s men lacked. Apparently, he was wrong. They’re all incompetent, he thought, looking at the wall.

The wall easily stood over a hundred feet. But with the right skill it was scalable. He turned to Olufemi and watched his brother’s face poised in indifference. It seemed only war drew his attention these days. Expecting anything else from him was asking for too much. One thing was clear: Olufemi had no expectations of the men they shared an encampment with.

“We scale it,” Darvi informed them.

Salem looked at their brother, skeptical. “Are you certain?” he asked. “It doesn’t look like much. And I doubt it can hold our weight for so long.”

Ezril held back his laughter. Salem was right.

How the Merdendi built the wall was more than understandable now that they stood before it. Each stone stood upon the other, held together by whatever adhesive the savages had used. But there was no decisiveness to their design.

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In certain places the stones stood together, well fashioned and designed to stand together as a wall. In other places, however, the stones stood glued against each other in a haphazard fashion. Like a disfigured puzzle, they stood upon each other, colors differing as much as their shapes.

Without a doubt, what stood now as a wall was put together from whatever stones had been found within the ruins. If anything, Ezril saw the wall as nothing more than a façade, designed to deceive their enemies until they came close enough.

This, apparently, was the Merdendi wall.

Darvi thought a brief moment before repeating himself. “We scale it, and find out what’s on the other side. It may not look like much but I doubt the Merdendi would leave it unguarded. We’ll find out what’s on the other side and get back as quickly as possible.”

It was an order. His tone left no room for argument.

The wall, to none of their surprises, proved an easy conquest. Their hands and feet found easy leverage with each ascent. It spoke of reasons it made a terrible example of a defensive wall. No doubt it will fall as easily, Ezril thought.

The top drew nearer. The summit, no more than four feet in width, was without event. The width confirmed their speculation of its absence of patrol during their climb. Now, all five priests sat upon it with ease, taking in the sight before them.

“So what do you reckon we do now?” Takan asked.

To none of their surprise, Darvi gave no answer. The view before them did more than enough to incite his annoyance.

Roughly a mile from them stood a second wall, separated only by the same expanse of barren land that now stood behind them. It was easy to make out its formation. And though it stood shorter and as void of patrol as the one they stood upon, the Merdendi seemed to have taken their time in fashioning it. From what Ezril could see from the distance, the rubbles put together seemed more harmonious than the first. This was the wall intended for their protection. The wall to keep out their enemies.

Salem looked at him. “Are we scaling that one too?” sarcasm Tainted the edge of his voice.

Ezril shook his head. “I don’t think it necessary.” He squinted. His gaze peered past the wall to the people who lived within it. For a lost city it had very little buildings within it, perhaps these walls took more of a toll on the city than expected.

There were no flames nurtured for warmth. It was a simple tactic. It made the enemy unable to see who they chose to attack. The distance being too great to make out anything concrete, Ezril turned to Darvi. “I don’t see a need to proceed further.”

“And why is that?” Darvi asked but didn’t look at him.

“Because to proceed further would be a waste of time and strength.”

“And how can you be certain?”

Ezril sighed lazily. “The floor is as much sand and glass as the one behind us,” he stated, then pointed to the wall. “That is no more than sixty feet.” He pointed within the wall. “There are no lights to see with. So, trained as we are, if we run into any trouble within that wall, we won’t know our enemies or how many they number. Even ten of Brother Talod won’t survive such a situation; and there are just five of us.”

“So there is no point in going further?” Darvi’s words came out as a question. Ezril didn’t take it as one. In it was a hint of challenge.

“The Seminary placed us under your command, brother,” Ezril added, ignoring the challenge. “If you command it, then I fear we will face the chances of a pointless death.”

He could have phrased his words better but he’d rather his brother hear the words from his mouth and appreciate the weight of the choice he had to make.

Darvi spared him a disapproving look but said nothing. Ezril had said the truth and knew his brother understood that more than he let on. However, trust was something he had in short supply. Come what may, I will not die tonight.

“You’re correct, brother,” Darvi said after a moment. “There’s no point risking our death over this...”

Takan sighed his relief.

“However,” Darvi continued, “we are not Noem’s men. And as such, we are not incompetent.” He turned his gaze on Ezril. “Send Olufemi.”

“What?!”

“Getting in and out shouldn’t be too difficult for one of us,” he explained, clearly ignoring Ezril’s protest. “And if I’m to send one of us, then it might as well be the best of us for the task.”

“Then send me–”

Darvi shook his head, cutting Ezril short. “Olufemi is the best for this. And should anything go wrong, we’ll be right here, ready to aid him.”

It took a moment, but Ezril understood when a request wasn’t being made of him. He knew a command when he heard one. Resigned to his fate, he turned to Olufemi and met his brother’s gaze fixed on him. Waiting. Where I command, he will obey. Ezril grit his teeth. Even if it kills him…

“Go.”