There were ten of them in total fit to hold a sword. Three of them were just teenagers, one of them a young woman. All of them looked exhausted with a kind of darkness in their eyes that made all of them look older than they were. Ral didn’t know much about Sansre, but he thought they were involved in trade. How did they have children holding weapons for them in this village?
“Where’s Kit and Grund?” Rask asked after casting a glance at the ‘welcome party’ that immediately gathered upon their arrival.
“Dead. It’s why we got these two,” a muscular, stout man with a bushy hair and beard said, gesturing at the two youngest in the crowd. “There’s not enough of us.”
“They’re too young, Tlatt,” Rask said. “Put them back to training and hauling work, I found someone to help.”
Everyone stopped when Tlatt stopped. He turned to study Ral with a keen dark eye. “No offense, Freerunner, but you brought back a single man,” he said. “Quite frankly, I don’t think he’s worth the weeks you’ve cost us. Three more Gates have opened and the occurrences are only increasing - we really could have used your help.”
“Does this ‘help’ you’ve found even know how to use a sword?” one of the older men snorted.
Rask ignored him. “I’m sorry Tlatt, but I wouldn’t have left if I didn’t absolutely have to. Show me now where the problems are, we’ll show you how - ”
Ral grew very still as Rask was speaking. He could see the coiling of muscles, the tenseness in the air. None of them looked at him but he knew they all watched him. The older man who spoke was the ringleader. He gave the barest of nods and one of the teenagers leaped towards him.
He ducked and rammed a fist into the boy’s gut. The air whooshed out of his lungs and he doubled over onto the ground. Immediately after, he pivoted and dodged the next attack by another in the group. He stuck his leg out and tripped the young man, then elbowed his back lightly so he fell with a humiliating ‘whump’ on the ground. Just as he fell to the ground, Ral drew out the poorly hidden knife at his waist.
Then as fast as he could he swept up behind the older man who gave the order to attack him, grasping at dirty hair and exposing his throat and held the stolen knife at the man’s throat.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
Rask cast him a thunderous look, one he hadn’t seen since he was a boy. “Ralos!”
“They started it,” Ral shrugged. He didn’t let the man go.
“Fine. He’ll do,” the older man said. His throat bobbed under the knife. Ral finally let him go.
Tlatt looked almost shaken at the spat even though no blood was spilled. “I apologize for questioning your worth, young freerunner,” he said to Ral. “But there was no need to threaten our men like that. I would have believed Rask here since he’s assured me you would be helpful.”
“I wouldn’t have,” the man Ral had at knife point muttered.
“Kevel!”
“What?” Kevel shot Ral a dirty look. “How many soldiers and fighters have come by promising that they could single handedly fight off monsters? Excuse me for wanting to see proof.”
Perhaps Ral should have bristled at how he needed to prove anything anymore. He had spent years trying to prove something. But instead he looked at this bedraggled group of people, so tired and dirty and realized something.
They could have left. They were able bodied, they had supplies. They could have abandoned this place in search of safety. Instead they are staying and fighting, even choosing their alliances carefully. Each and every one of them were at the mercy of the flow of Solvent, of life, just as he was. The only difference was that these people stood stubbornly and fought it instead of lamenting why things were the way they were. Furthermore, while they walked through the village, Ral could see the houses set up to help the injured - not only were they putting up a fight, they were helping those in need.
Ral understood why Rask wanted to come back and help them. For a while, Ral thought it was because of some misplaced patriotism of a lost kingdom. Maybe the freerunner was clinging to some nostalgia, or he simply couldn’t let go of the past. Then, for one horrible moment, he considered maybe Rask had begun to cling to a community the way Ral had to the Somas due to loneliness.
No, none of those were the case. Ral felt it when he decided then and there as if he had fulfilled a milyssk jor. Staying was simply the right thing to do.
You’re not a child anymore, Ralos.
Ralos, son of suns and with nothing to prove to anyone anymore, turned to Tlatt. “I want to help, if you’ll have me,” he said. “I can close Gates. Tell me where you need me to go.”