Essay On The Desert

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THE AIR WAS FULL OF SALT and bitter decay, just the same as yesterday. Tonight the stench seemed even more oppressive. Perhaps it was the reek of the bodies they’d stacked up in the tower on the west side of the gate. Or perhaps it was the miasma that bloomed from the Enemy encampment surrounding the walls. Whichever; it made no difference. Stink was stink. Neria Terrant gazed out from the ramparts of Meridan’s fortified outer wall, her stare distant. Her dark hair whipped against her face, tossed by the wind. She scowled, swiping it back behind her ear. “We’re running out of arrows,” grumbled the hard-bitten captain standing next to her. “And we’re running out of Sentinels.” The first problem was easier to solve than the second.…show more content…
He was scowling down at something in his hand. A long, thin dagger with an ebony hilt. “Careful,” Neria smiled, “your wife probably wouldn’t approve of the way you’re stroking that weapon.” Gerald glanced up at the sound of her voice. He offered Neria a fleeting, dispirited grin. “Emelda hasn’t approved of most things I’ve done lately.” “Neither have I,” Neria reminded him. She never tired of flaunting her authority in his face. If not for Neria, Gerald Lauchlin would be Warden of Sentinels. But Neria overshadowed him both in power and promise. Something which had to gall him every waking moment of his life. She turned at the sound of approaching footsteps. Scores of Proctor’s men lugged stiffened corpses up the stairs. Neria stepped over beside Gerald to give the men room to work. They tied long lengths of rope about the legs of the deceased, looping the other ends around the merlons of the palisade. “What am I looking at?” Gerald muttered, disgust etched into his face. His shoulder-length brown hair whipped in the wind. “Watch and be inspired.” Neria allowed a proud smile to slip to her lips. The soldiers heaved the corpses over the parapet, feeding the rope slowly, lowering the bodies gradually down the outside of the wall. She kept her gaze trained on Gerald’s face, watching the play of emotions evolving in his eyes. There was a shivering whisper on the wind—the breathless flight of arrows

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