Unkarra Gate (1st draft)

Chapter 8.1

He limped along the road, hooded and disguised completely by the darkness. Even so, there was scarcely a single pair of prying eyes to witness his slow, crutch assisted trek across this town and to the outskirts of the neighbouring town. Atop the hill that separated them, he came to the walls of the outpost of House Stamrin and roused the gate guard by laying his hands upon the walls, shaking them tremendously. With a diminutive voice, yet a commanding tone, he declared his high royal position and gained entrance.

He stormed directly into the wooden keep, arousing several troopers and settling himself upon a chair in the common room. The troops brought candles, revealing the gore that covered their lord Ronclay. His clothes were ragtag and all but ruined; his flesh was pale and he bore several grevious looking wounds. Blood was upon him everywhere, as though he had tried to clean it off but had abandoned the hopeless venture.

The outpost commander strode to the front, bravely speaking up. "It is an honour to have you visit," he said, trembling slightly. "Would you care for a drink?"

"No," answered Ronclay. "What I would care for are some answers."

Hands wrung together anxiously, and Ronclay signaled them to sit.

"I understand you took a rebel captive yesterday, and were unable to hold him. Is this true?"

"Y-Yes, m'lord," answered the commander.

"And why was it that you were unable to keep a man inside of a cage. Was it that metal cage I saw still out front? It seems that it is a simple task to keep a man in a cage."

"There was a ruse, m'lord," answered the captain. "He had help escaping."

"And have you found this 'help?'" Ronclay scowled.

"No, he was a boy from the Black Hare, an inn in the border town. We questioned them earlier in the evening, but it seems he disappeared."

The look on Ronclay's face was incredulous. "A boy foiled a troop of House Stamrin?" The men looked nervously at one another.

"Once he was freed, he was a very dangerous fighter. Two of my men taken down with ease by this man."

"I know that well enough. Yet, he was encumbered by children, and still you allowed him to escape?" He left another pause in which there was no answer. "Did you at least get a name to place this warrior?" The shook their heads and made negative remarks.

"It seems that this troop and this outpost suffers from a lack of proper leadership. Bring me a paper and quill," he commanded, and with a wave from the commander one of the men darted through the hall. "I will send word back to [uncle], that I will cover for your incompetence personally."

The commander fidgeted for another moment, and spoke up again. "Yes m'lord, about that, your uncle, m'lord. Word reached him 5 days ago of your death, and he has been hunting for those responsible. This is why the troop is stationed with us. I'm sure he will be very... pleased to hear that you are alive..." His voice trailed as he spoke.

"Well, isn't it convenient that a troop has been sent. As it was, I was here to assume command of a troop myself. Where is the commander of this troop?"

"He's asleep in the back barracks," answered the outpost commander.

"Then fetch him, while I compose this message." The paper and quill was brought and Ronclay quickly composed this message:

Dear Hargrel,

Any news of my death is misinformed. I am continuing pursuit of a dangerous rebel who has killed several House Stamrin troops. I am taking the troop that was dispatched to [town] East towards house Dasben, where it seems they hope to make an escape. I will return with his head.

Sincerely

Ronclay Stamrin

As well, have Sedrik killed if he isn't dead already.

He rolled up the letter, blood stains being left all over it, and handed the letter over to the commander. The man who had gone to rouse the troop commander returned at this time, with a drowsy, poorly dressed, yet strong looking soldier who held himself with confidence, even before Ronclay.

"M'lord," he said simply, awaiting Ronclay's response.

"Drop that, I'm your commander now. If you would address me, it's 'sir.'" The man nodded. "What is your name?"

"Kendrel."

"Very good. You are the one who brought news from [house city]?" Kendrel nodded. "I hear that I am believed dead? What else can you tell me."

"That's about the main thing, sir." He did his best to address him without directly looking. "Your mother was outraged. Several troops were sent out to a few neighbouring areas. We commanders were addressed personally, to find the rebel who murdered you and your troop."

"Well, as you can see, I am quite not-murdered." Kendrel responded with a hesitant nod, looking away to maintain concentration. "Who gave the commands to you?"

"Lord [cousin]. There is talk of him assuming command of all House Stamrin forces."

"What nonsense. Well, prepare the troop as early as possible," Ronclay said. Sunlight began to spill into the room from the narrow window, high up. "I could use a bit of rest."

"Where are we headed, if I may ask sir?" Kendrel asked.

"Further out, in pursuit." A crow was heard outside, and landed in the window, its shadows being cast inside. "I know exactly where we're heading," Ronclay said with a smile.