Unkarra Gate (1st draft)

Chapter 8.2

Several miles away, in the highlands bordering both houses, Bogrel stumbled back to the farmstead where all the children and Tomgrel rested. He burst in noisily, waking most, stumbling and blurting incoherently. The sword was cast aside carelessly, as he went among all the oldest, shaking them awake.

"We must go," he said, which were among his most coherent words.

Everyone woke in the bustle, and by the time everyone was roused and sorted, they found Bogrel asleep against the wall, with a bottle in hand. Dara looked at him, her hands up to her head as she saw each cut and bruise on him. She took the bottle, closed it, and laid him down as safely as she could.

"What happened to him?" asked Tomgrel in a groggy voice. He moved to get close to Dara, but she dodged and began fussing with a dozen things all at once.

"I have no idea but I wish he would just focus on helping us rather than killing people," Dara answered. Next she went to check on Ezara, who laid mostly still in sleep. Her brow furrowed in fits, as though she were lost in troubled dreams. Dara fussed over her friend until the collected children bothered her enough that she could no longer spare a moment.

She put Tomgrel to task starting the fire for cooking and Sara to organizing the dishes and utensils for breakfast, such as they had. The breakfast was as good as they had managed in a week or more, having eggs and bread both, as well as oatmeal for the fussier children, and meat for the hungrier among them. After eating, washing, and packing away things, the bright sun had risen clear into the sky. All the while she was plagued with questions, "Are we going today?" "Is Ezara going to wake up?" "What happened to Bo?" "When are we going to back to see our mommies?"

She had to send the children outside to play. Tomgrel found another moment to catch Dara alone enough to talk.

"So, it looks like you're packing up already, but have you thought about staying?" he asked.

She finally stopped her bustle and looked at him. He became lost in her blue eyes, his own were hopeful for the answer he wanted to hear. She spoke naught for a moment and Tomgrel continued. "What we shared last night was incredible. It was... It was the best thing that ever happened to me. I know you enjoyed it as well, please tell me you'll stay. All the kids can stay, we can make a home for everyone."

At this she looked down, tears forming in her eyes. But he waited until she spoke. "Tom... I can't right now. Last night was... good. But I don't think I'm safe here. Ezara's not safe here."

"Yeah, but, are you safe with them?" he asked.

"They're the only family that I have. I have to stick with them."

"But why? You're all just kids. Just, what have you done? Why are they after you?"

"I don't know, okay," said Dara, becoming exasperated. All I know is that I just want to get away from all of this, far away. And you should stay away too, because everyone in my life just ends up hurt or dead. I'm sorry." She turned away and continued to busy herself, returning to keeping kids out of trouble, packing up things and checking on Ezara who still lay unconcious. Tomgrel went outside for a time.

When Bogrel woke, he shot upright, with a shout, and then a groan borne out of pain. He shook his head, scanned about himself, and then rose to his feet with many groans. The room was empty but for Dara and Ezara, the former still watching over the unconscious latter. Dara scarecely looked up at Bogrel's awakening.

"How late is it?" he asked. "We have to get moving," he said, not waiting for an answer.

"Well maybe we would be already if you weren't always hanging onto a cursed bottle," Dara snapped back at him, voice laced with venom. "Why did you have to run off. Did you kill that butcher? Do you feel better now? Or are we just in more trouble than ever?" She found she was now face to face with him, and staring him down, as he was looking down towards the ground. She put her hand on the bottle that had already made its way there. "Put this down and figure yourself out. You're a complete mess and no one knows what you're talking about. I've got almost everything ready to go, except for yourself and Ezara. I'm not sure when she'll be ready to go. She...." her voice caught in her throat and she turned away, back to Ezara.

Bogrel took a moment before responding. "She'll have to be ready. If we stay here, she'll die."

"Stop it!" she shouted turning back to Bogrel. "You're always making everything come back to death and dying, or killing. What is it about you?!" she said, and turning away, she added: "What is it about me?"

More than one minute passed, until Bogrel put his hand on Dara's shoulder. "I'm sorry," he said. "I said I would protect you, but you are right, I am getting lost in blood feuds." She did her best to ignore him, and he dropped the hand back to his side.

"Lady Dara," he began anew; she nearly jumped at the entitlement. "I try. With all my heart, but with all my heart and mind I always take the wrong paths. I am in need of guidance, this I know. My heart is too scarred to rightly know right from wrong. Yet every time I have given myself, I am steered wrong. But I can see that you would not, not you."

He found his sword by the wall and came back and knelt behind her, even as she knelt before Ezara. He then offered it before him, hilt towards her, keeping his head bowed. "Lady Dara, please accept my sword and the arm that wields it, in your name and your judgement, under your command and under my oath."

He remained in this position patiently as time crept by.

After a point where the waiting had become painful for both of them, Dara composed herself and stood, taking the sword oafishly if not awkwardly. "I accept," she said in an awkward tone, due to the tears she fought back. She reversed it and held it back towards him. "Now go clean yourself and get ready to go. There's still some food left over for you."

Ten minutes later he was ready to depart. They set off down a road following bad instructions from Tomgrel, heading worrying back towards town, but then east and south. He watched them from the front yard of the dilapidated homestead as they left, with only a crow above breaking the silence. 

 * * *

The troop came down the trail near nightfall. Tomgrel had run to the outlying woods, but Ronclay was easily able to tell that someone had been in the house but minutes prior, fussing with the fire and food. It took only minutes before his hooded form stood but paces from Tomgrel's hiding spot in the trees.

Tomgrel had watched the approach, hoping that somehow he would be missed, hoping that this cloaked stranger was not able to tell where he was. But his hopes were futile, and Ronclay saw him clearly enough to look him in the eye.

"Come on out, boy, now, and you can have mercy." The voice was not reassuring, but neither did it sound false. "We need not be enemies. You are young; mistakes are made by everyone. I could use a strong young man such as yourself. You would never go hungry. You could be priviledged.

"Don't worry, this will not be hard. Come down now, and here, have this." He held up a coin. "All my men receive payment. What's the most you've ever had? Have you ever even had a coin? You can have this one, just come down and let me know one thing. We're looking for someone, I'm sure you can guess who. The only thing I need you to do for me is to tell me where our quarry is going."