Unkarra Gate (1st draft)

Chapter 9.1

It was the approaching nightfall the day after they had left the farm. Tomgrel was travelling with the soldiers now, being treated as a new recruit. All was not bad; he was fed as promised, and so far had been treated better than the innkeeper had treated him.

Ronclay had marched his men around foothills of the mountain separating the two houses, having turned south in their trek along the main road. A tower stood aside the road, and as they approached, Ronclay had noted a man take his leave of the structure and run.

"We've been seen by their scout," he announced, referring to the rival house of Dasben. Tomgrel looked about at the men, to see what this would mean, but they reacted very little to the announcment.

They were now in entering their lands, and were likely to have a contentious welcome. For many generations they had been united under the second kingdom of Geberra, but since the fall of the kingdom they had been more enemies than colleagues. Trade had been conducted under tense relations, and arguments carried out with swords. Of late, precious little had moved between the two, as neither had much the other required.

Ronclay sent his fastest runner after the scout and continued to lead his troop through the canyon that cut its way to the highlands where the houses' stronghold lay. Scouts were sent ahead along the path to ensure they wouldn't run into a surprise without warning. Tomgrel stayed with the main group, tagging along with the most approachable man.

"Are we expecting a battle?" Tomgrel asked of the older man, who shrugged off the question.

The road they were on led them through the forested canyon, bringing them closer and closer to the river on their left. The forest continued around them, but the road was still clear from its frequent use of a hundred years prior and more. These days, much less traffic went by the road, but as it was the main entrance to house Dasben's lands from the east, it remained guarded. In the dark, little could be seen but the outlines of the trees. The sound of the roaring river grew and grew as they went.

After a couple of hours of walking along the road, their advance runner came back, and reported to Ronclay.

"I followed their scout ahead. About another two miles ahead there's a gatehouse, or outpost, that he went back to. They were keeping watch, but they didn't see me," he said.

"Alright men," Ronclay announced loudly to his troop. "Be ready for blood tonight. I'll prove to my timid Uncle that House Dasben cannot stand up to House Stamrin. They will yield before us."

The men in back began to murmur among themselves, but once fixed with a stare from Ronclay, they quieted. The friendly soldier turned towards Tomgrel when he had a moment. "Guess you have your answer now, eh boy?"

Tomgrel's face drained of blood and he felt sick to his stomach with anxiety.

Ronclay led them onward, pushing the forward scouts to keep ahead. The road continued to climb and narrow, and once it had reached its narrowest point, they caught up to their two scouts who advised that the outpost was within sight.

Ronclay took a mere few moments to study the structure. Stone and wooden walls stretched from the side of the canyon to the dropoff. A massive wooden gate barred the road, and behind were two towers, and the roofs of buildings just beyond. On the wall guards were posted and alert.

"They are watching for us," said Kendrel.

"Let them watch, as we cut them down," said Ronclay. "Behind me, and if anyone balks, I'll kill you myself." He drew his sword and trotted directly towards the wall, heedless of caution. The men hesitated to a man, but one backward glance from their commander convinced them to move. Tomgrel timidly stayed far to the rear of the advance.

As Ronclay came closer, shouts were heard from the wall. Moments later, arrows began to fly. In the front, Ronclay stopped a few with the shield, one getting past and striking his shoulder, though he did not so much as slow down. The men came after him cautiously, shields up, but confused as to how to mount an attack against the high wall.

The battle came to a stunned pause once Ronclay came close to the wall and leaped. As simply as that, he was atop the wall, cutting down the archers like rag dolls. Then he jumped below. The troop below stopped before the gate, still stunned, until it swung open from inside.

"Kill them all!" shouted Ronclay, turning to face a guard attacking him with a sword. A shield block turned into a counter attack as the sword was knocked from the man's hand, and in the next instant he was impaled upon Ronclay's sword, which pierced through the man's metal breast plate.

The dozen House Stamrin troops charged forward at this, meeting a troop pouring from a barracks with a cacophony of metal against metal. Through the bloody chaos Ronclay cut men down ruthlessly, leaving but a few survivors for his troops as he burst into the guard house. Tomgrel followed through the gates last, morbidly looking at all the dead men being cast down. He slinked near the rear, hoping to avoid any combat.

Inside the guardhouse, there were a few men, frantically scurrying about inside, who turned towards Ronclay with mixed fear and fury. They met a quick and brutal death, all save one, whom Ronclay held at bloody sword-point.

"You were the scout, watching from the tower?" he asked.

The young man nodded; a quick, tense motion, hindered by the sword at his neck.

"Did you see anyone travelling the road today? A man with a group of children?"

The man shook his head just as tensely.

"And the man watching before you?"

The man remained mute; terrified. Pressure on the blade against the neck brought tears to his eyes, and he desparately cried: "There's been no one! No one for days!"

"Well, I suppose it is good news," Ronclay said, throwing the man to the floor. He sheathed his sword and walked about the main room of the guard house. It featured a hearth, a large table, and a desk. He took the lantern that lit the room as he toured the room. "I will give you this one chance. You run, and tell your kin what happened here tonight. You tell them, and you tell them how it is futile to stand up to House Stamrin. I shall return in the future, and I expect your full cooperation with my efforts. Should you do so, I will spare your life then and now."

The young man was too terrified to speak, but he nodded once again, and dashed from the building and out into the night. Ronclay finished his walk of the room and used the lantern to start a fire inside, using the wood from furniture and papers that lay on the desk to kindle it.

He stepped back outside to see his men victorious upon the battlefield, tending to the wounded among them. His approach brought all their attention square upon him. "We're done here, men. Let's head back down the road and set camp by morning." They continued to stare, with shocked faces. "What are you staring at?" He demanded.

"Sir, your shoulder," said Kendrel.

Ronclay looked down and saw the arrow protruding from his body, its head buried deep in his body. He grimaced and began to fuss with it. Finally he pushed it through, pulling it out from below his shoulder blade in an awkward motion. The men watched on in near-terror. He fixed them with a twisted smile.

"Set fire to everything, leave this place a ruin before we go," he said. One of the Dasben men moaned at his feet, and he licked his lips as he looked upon him. "Get to it!" he barked. The men scrambled, and he dragged the man aside into the cloak of darkness. Trying only slightly to conceal his actions, he cut into the dying man's neck and gorged himself upon the blood that poured from him.

He reveled in the feeling of satisfaction, paired with the thrill of intoxication and ecstasy. When he dropped the man he was dead, drained of all life that he had but minutes prior. Tomgrel watched from the corner of his eye as he helped the other men set the fires; a whole new level of fear of Ronclay had firmly taken root.