seemed impossibly far away. Samir continued to watch as the scene unfolded, while Ghassan averted his eyes sadly.
As the folk of M’Dahz were led along the wall there was a scream. Samir nodded sadly to himself as he watched the first person in the line plummet from the wall to land on the rocky ground below, his head smashing like a watermelon. The fall was perhaps forty feet. Few would survive the drop and many of those that did would be smashed beyond repair. Surely the satrap did not intend to execute them all? Who would he have to be merciless to?
As he watched, the line of prisoners was marched along the wall and the next few were directed to the steps to descend to ground level once again. Samir clenched his teeth and counted as he watched.
“One… two… three… four…”
As the smaller brother peered between the figures before him, he saw the fifth prisoner jabbed with a staff and pushed across the parapet by one of the guards. The man made no sound as he fell, though Samir would never forget the sound as he landed. Was he brave to have held his silence, or perhaps stricken by such shock that he was unable to speak?
“One… two… three… four…”
Another scream; this time a woman’s voice. He was unable to see as a large, bald man obscured his view at the last moment.
“Every fifth person, Ghassan. One in five.”
The taller brother shook his head in disbelief.
“Then we have to leave; to escape…”
Samir pursed his lips.
“Not possible. I’ve looked at every angle I can think of, but the satrap’s got us covered. The only way out of here is along the wall or through a thousand heavily armed guards.”
“Someone has to do something.”
Samir shook his head.
“He’s broken us. Have you not seen? Months ago the guards would have had to physically push the people up the stairs. Not now, though. They’re acting like cattle. The satrap points and the people walk. M’Dahz is done for. When we get through this, we need to make some rather important decisions, my friend.”
“When we get through this?”
“One in five. The odds aren’t too bad.”
Ghassan stared at his brother.
Suddenly the crowd nearby was beginning to move. The pace along the wall was picking up. One, two, three, four… scream. One, two, three, four… scream. There was something sickeningly comforting about the one, two, three and four.
Ghassan continued to stare at his brother as Samir turned to face the now moving crowd and walked forward. The taller brother stared for a moment and then turned to look up at their mother, who had been silent throughout the whole exchange. She hardly appeared to notice him. Her expression, dead and glassy, was unchanged by the horror around her and the only hint Ghassan could detect that she was even aware of her surroundings was a slight twitch at the corner of her eye with each fresh scream from the wall.
With a deep breath, he turned to face the horror and took a step forward.
Slowly, with solemn and dreadful certainty, the entire crowd shuffled forward, gradually filtering into a line as their neared the gate and its stairs. Samir turned as the ascent grew ever closer and locked his gaze on his brother.
“Things will be better, remember? Hope.”
Ghassan nodded and clasped his brother’s hand tight. As Samir shook and then let go, they both turned to look up at their mother. As the satrap had broken M’Dahz, the whole experience had broken Nadia; such was clear. Her eyes stared ahead in their glassy oblivion, not even flickering down toward her children.
“Mother?”
Ghassan reached out and grasped her hand.
“Mother? I don’t want to do this without hearing your voice again?”
There was no reaction. Her eye twitched once again at the shriek from close by.
“Mother? Please speak to me.”
A tear welled up in Ghassan’s eye and he started as Samir grasped his shoulder and turned him forward once more.
“Leave her alone, Ghassan.”
“I can’t.”
“You must.”
Samir grasped his shoulders, the whole line coming momentarily to a halt.
“Mother is gone, Ghassan. She’s not here any more, and she’s better off wherever she is. Don’t bring her back and make her face this. It’s not kind.”
Ghassan stared at his brother.
“But we can’t let her go on like this…”
“Yes we can, Ghassan. When we get through this we can take care of her; get her some help. But right now the best thing you can do for her is leave her alone.”
The taller brother continued to stare as Samir turned his back once more and picked up the pace to catch up under the watchful dark eyes of the guards by the gatehouse tower. Taking a pace forward, his toes touched the first step. Slowly, with his heart pounding, Samir began to climb the staircase. Behind him, he could hear Ghassan’s breath, fast and close to panic, by the sound.
Moments passed and finally he was high enough to see along the wall. A woman was thrust out into open space as his eyes settled on the queue. Without even realising he was doing it, he counted the intervening prisoners.
Eighteen.
His mind raced.
Ghassan… It would be Ghassan.
Ghassan wouldn’t let him change that. His brother was too noble in his heart to let Samir do it. So it would have to be quick…
Fifteen.
Very quick!
There were five guards at the point where people were being thrown off. They were busy in solemn conversation but looked up regularly to examine the queue. Samir was pleased to note that they did not look happy with their lot. Perhaps there was hope for these people after all?
Gritting his teeth, he waited for a moment until they looked away and suddenly ducked to the side and came back up behind his brother. Ghassan looked round in shock.
“What? Why…”
The taller boy suddenly realised what his brother had done.
Eleven.
“No, Samir…”
Ghassan tried to push past his brother, but one of the guards rushed across, his attention once more on the queue, and separated them.
“No one changes” the Pelasian said flatly.
Nine.
A man Ghassan thought he recognised as a shopkeeper on the street of wild winds disappeared with a bellow from the parapet.
“Samir!”
The smaller boy shook his head.
“Hope, Ghassan. Look after mother for me.”
“Samir!”
Seven.
The taller boy’s eyes were wide as he stared at his brother. He couldn’t let this happen. He’d always
