The Wall | Page 5

no longer walked
the Wall.
******
By the second week the first of the new recruits had abandoned
principle for the comfort of the shade. He was greeted in the camp with

much cheer from the veterans, who plied him with wine and food, and
treated him as though he were a hero. Tavarius watched all this with
amusement, as he had time and time before. But when he looked up to
the Wall he saw Sartas there, marching back and forth, ramrod straight,
and showing all the discipline that would have made him a favorite of
the King's. Tavarius didn't know why, but it unsettled him to see this.
He didn't want to admit that it was guilt, but there was a nagging sense
in the back of his mind that it was.
Others quickly followed the first, and by the beginning of the third
week there was but one lonely soul walking the Wall. One man to stand
between the unknown, the unseen, and the unlikely. One man
protecting all of Cysteria from whatever evils might await beyond that
towering barrier.
"A fool," Tavarius sighed as he lowered his spyglass and sat back in the
cool shade. But there wasn't as much conviction in his voice as usual;
and in his dark eyes and sun-lined face there were signs of grudging
respect.
Karn chuckled softly. "Reminds me of you, when you first came to the
Wall. You were eager then, Tav. So full of enthusiasm, so determined
that you'd serve your king well. You believed then."
"In many things," Tavarius agreed quietly. "But I was young and naive.
And I wasn't long for the Wall."
"We're all the same," Karn observed. "Back home they make us believe
it's such a great honor. They make us believe there's purpose in what's
done out here in the eternal loneliness of this forsaken desert." He
shook his head. "Had I known back then what I know now, I'd have
never accepted the 'honor' of being one of the walkers."
Tavarius laughed. "You make it sound as though you were betrayed."
"And wasn't I?" Karn slapped a hand against the sand. "Didn't I hear the
guardians of the Wall spin their tales of wonder as they sat drinking in
the taverns? Didn't I listen at the door as my father regaled all with

stories of great daring? And didn't he leave me in awe of him after
relating some great adventure that took place here?" He grabbed a
fistful of sand and flung it angrily into the air. "Here, Tav! Here, in this
hell of dust and boredom."
"My father, too, told such tales," Tavarius confessed. "And no doubt
his father before him did the same. And I, when I'm at home with wife
and children, am given to some embellishment when relating the
months spent whiling away the time in this desert. Perhaps I'm just
ashamed to admit there's no threat. Perhaps, when I see the wonder in
their eyes and the glowing admiration, I can't help myself. And though
I tell myself time and time again that it's wrong and that I must end the
lies, I can't. Because somehow I feel that I'd be betraying them.
Betraying their belief in me as husband and father."
Karn nodded sympathetically. "It's the truth," he sighed. "For it's no
different for me. It's too easy to accept the accolades, even as the guilt
gnaws at my conscience and I find myself wishing desperately to tell
them all the truth. But sometimes, when I see my son look to me with
such admiration, I want to cry. I want so desperately to tell him the
truth, because one day he'll know it for himself. And then, Tav, what
will he think of me?"
"Perhaps as you think of your father."
"With anger at first. And then pity. And understanding. More so as the
years pass. I am he, in ways that I could never have imagined."
"As are we all." Tavarius raised his spyglass to his eye and peered at
the Wall.
"And him?" asked Karn.
"Sartas, too, wishes only to be like his father. And because he can't yet
accept the truth of it, he stands up there, vigilant against the
embroidered myths that have led a succession of kings to send good
men north and south to waste in the heat of a merciless desert sun."
Tavarius lowered the glass and was silent for a moment.

"It's difficult to accept the humanity of one's idols," he said at length.
"In our early years as sons we look upon our fathers as gods. They can
do no wrong; they're always right. Until we grow old enough to see
their feet of clay."
"Ah," said Karn, nodding his head. "Sartas doesn't walk the Wall for
the