Conquered | BrightWin | WatTine (Hiatus)

19. Welcome Home

"I can see them. I can see the battlements of Doret Begardam" cried Tine in excitement.

Wat smiled indulgently at him. Tine's energy was infectious, and Wat found himself just as eager to see Salehah again.

The massive white sandstone and granite walls of the fort were visible from a mile away, behind shimmering hot air that created the illusion that there was water.

Doret Begardam was the fortress that encircled the oasis city of Salehah, the heart of the Tribal Federation of the Faateh. It was a mammoth square, stretching for ten miles on each side, seemingly interminable.

Within its twenty feet thick walls lay the city of nearly half a million, a study in organized chaos, with more chaos than organization, truth be told.

Tine had never seen anything of the size or scale of Salehah. The grand kingdoms of Kindraire seemed miniscule before the capital city of the Federation.

"I can't wait to see the house you grew up in. I've imagined you only vaguely as a little boy, stingy as you've been with your childhood stories" said Tine.

Wat snorted. "I held a sword long before I ever held a quill. That should tell you all you need to know about my childhood."

Tine pouted and Wat sighed.

"Aunt Maira and Perizaad will no doubt be delighted to share embarrassing and highly exaggerated stories of me as a boy. Hafza too. She already loves you, so she won't have any qualms about besmirching my good name before you" said Wat gloomily.

Tine laughed and brightened up considerably, and Wat felt his heart soaring like the kites they could see in the sky above Salehah.

*

The journey from the port city of Bahara to Salehah was normally a seven day ride across the desert. It had taken them ten.

Wat had insisted on stopping to spend an extra day in each of the three smaller oases they passed so Tine could rest and adjust to the extreme climate.

The Prince had not complained even once, but Wat could see that the soul-sapping heat of the desert was taking its toll on the inexperienced Northerner.

Bosavar had volunteered to ride alone to Salehah from Bahara, to let the Guntithanon household know of their imminent arrival in advance.

When Tine had remarked that a hawk would serve the purpose just the same, if not better, Bosavar had gone red and mumbled something about details and security.

Wat had waved him off indulgently and Bosavar kicked his horse into a gallop.

Wat smiled to himself.
"Boss is anxious to go home. It's been close to two years since he met his family.

The last time he was home, he'd been severely injured in the war with one of the Eastern Coast kingdoms and had to be sent back to be stitched up by the medics in the Shif-a-ka'ana, the famed infirmaries of Salehah.

I had almost given up hope and thought we'd lost him then. But the bastard came back to the battlefront four months later, standing on his own two feet beside Arman and me, swinging a mace fit to break down a wall by himself."

Tine shook his head in wonder, murmuring to himself.

"What a strange life a warrior leads - leaving home and loved ones behind, to fight for a dream that may not even be their own.
And then to see what they fought for finally become a reality, but only after having walked over a path watered by blood and paved with bones, not knowing if it brings peace or torment."