The Book of Terrus: A Land of Sunlight

Chapter 26 - Hilmarhlǫkk

OoOoO

"Tarun...Tarun, wake up."

Having only gone to sleep a few hours beforehand (he was nearly halfway through Second), Tarun was definitely groggier than he should have been. Sunlight was already streaming through the curtains of their room in the boarding house. From the plaza below he could vaguely make out the rumbling murmur of many voices talking amongst themselves.

"Come on, get your bag."

Blinking the grit from his eyes brought Garrit into focus, standing over Tarun's bunk. His cousin was not only up and dressed, but apparently ready for travel. Although Garrit wore his standard-issue uniform beneath a light cloak, he was conspicuously without the armour which – although valuable – marked him clearly as a royal soldier. Despite that, Garrit did still carry his sword belted at his waist.

"Where are we going?" asked Tarun dumbly, still more asleep than awake.

Garrit came him a strange look. "Home, where else? Now hurry up, Thyge said we leave before the sun clears the rooftops."

Even though Garrit prodded and urged him along at every step, Tarun took longer than usual to dress. He still wasn't entirely sure what he was going to do as he followed Garrit downstairs and out of the boarding house.

The men of Trosk were all there, gathered in the plaza below The Weeping Keep. Guardians of the Keep stood watching them from the steps, faces inscrutable beneath full head wraps. The Guardians made no move to interrupt the mountainfolk, even though they were obviously intending to leave Derbesh. Looking back over his shoulder, Tarun could see the lowlander soldiers of the Fourth watching them from the windows of the boarding house, stony-eyed and silent. Tarun caught sight of Derrian Bel at one window. Amidst a tapestry of sour, scornful lowlanders, only Derrian looked at all sad to see the men of Trosk leaving.

"There you are, Tarun. We were beginning to wonder if we'd be leaving without you!"

Borse's words were friendly, obviously meant only in teasing. The tanner clapped Tarun on the arm – deliberately avoiding Tarun's scabbed and tender back – a smile pulling at his clipped black beard.

"Right then, that's all of us," said Thyge. The baker shrugged on his pack and stretched. "Time to go home."

"You can't."

The only people who heard Tarun were those standing closest to him, namely Garrit, Borse, and Andris. Borse and Garrit seemed willing to pretend that they hadn't heard anything; they tossed their heads toward the main street, silently asking Tarun to follow. Andris, however, called Tarun out.

"What do you mean we can't?"

Andris's voice, higher and filled with indignant disbelief, turned heads. Within seconds, every man of Trosk standing in the plaza was staring at Tarun.

"What was that?" asked Joar, gingery eyebrows puckered together sharply.

"What do you mean we can't, Thrymmson?" echoed Thyge. The baker's weathered hands creaked as they tightened on his new walking staff.

Tarun took a deep breath. "We can't leave Derbesh," he repeated, louder and firmer this time. "We have to stay and swear for Princess Ellorae."

Before Tarun was even finished speaking, men were shouting.

"Like hoarfrost we do!"

"We're going home, the princess be damned!"

"I've been away from Devina and the children long enough already!"