His blood was rising, responding to years of frustration. How many hundreds, nay, how many thousands of men have lost their lives over this abomination upon a hill? I have grown old here. Old before my time. Your sons have grown up here, made ancient by endless hatred and treachery and war. And now you want to abandon the place to the Disciple. For shame!

Radetic planted himself in front of the Wahlig, fists on hips. He almost grinned. Even Fuad was shaken by his fury. What have we lived for? What have we died for? If we go now, have we not wasted all those years and sacrifices?

We fought for an ideal, Megelin. Yousifs voice was soft and tired. And we lost. The Disciple did not overthrow us physically. We ran him off again. But the ideal lies dead beneath his heel. The tribes are deserting us. They know where the strength lies, where the future lies. With the man we couldnt kill. With the man who, in a few weeks, will command hordes eager to swarm over our broken walls to plunder our homes, defile our women and murder our children. There is nothing we can do here unless we want to die valiantly in a lost cause, like the knights in your western romances.

Megelin could not sustain his anger in the face of the truth. He and Fuad were being stubborn out of sentiment and pride. Death could be the lone reward for harkening to either. The Wahligate was lost in all but name.

Yousif continued, Things arent yet hopeless up north. Aboud opened his eyes enough to see the need for the General. Maybe reports from his own men, who have seen the enemy, will widen the crack in the wall around his reason. He still commands the strength and faith of the kingdom if hed just use them.

Torment and despair muddied the Wahligs words, pain he would never confess. The decision to flee had cost him. It may have broken him as a man.

Youll have your will, Lord. I havent the strength to deny it. But I fear youll find more heartbreak in Al Rhemish. Theres nothing else to say. I must pack. It would be a sin if my labors of years were destroyed by ignorant fools in white.

For an instant torment controlled the Wahlig. His face reflected the horrors of hell. But he steadied himself, like the great lord he was. Go, then, teacher. Im sorry Ive been a disappointment.

Not that, Wahlig. Not ever. Radetic surveyed the others. Hawkwind remained inscrutable. Fuad was a study in inner conflict, an almost trite portrait of a man compelling himself to remain silent.

Megelin, Yousif called as Radetic neared the door. Travel with Haroun. I have very little else left.

Radetic nodded, stamped out.