The Founding of Tiranis, CH 03 (Patreon)

Over the following days, the refugees pushed the carts back on their wheels, put as much of their things as they could now handle with the damage they had taken during the gunfight, and brought everything back to their encampment, carrying by hand what the wagons couldn’t support.

While they did that, Ellarkay collected the bodies, stripped them, and let his fire feed. It would be insufferable after this, he knew, but it beat the stench and dealing with the animals the corpses would attract.

The lynx went through the pockets and then collected the weapons. The contraption the human, Leroy, had used was in pieces, and that was for the best. Reno, the rat, had implied not just any human could use it, but if one of the refugees could, it would have led to no end of troubles.

Some of the refugees had gone looking for the horses and came back with five of them. They left the saddle bags on his porch without looking in them. In the end, Ellarkay had eleven guns, although only six still worked, their holsters, and a few hundred bullets. Their clothing he’d give to the refugees once he’d soaked them and taken the blood out. He had no interest in wearing them; it had been too long since he’d worn cotton.

All that was as he’d expected. What he hadn’t expected to find were four gold coins. Perfectly circular, with a cotton plant embossed on it. The last time he’d seen gold used, they hadn’t been able to form it into regular circles, and the embossing had been hit or miss. Not knowing what to do with them, he dumped the coins in the trunk where he put all the things he’d found in his foray into the woods that he didn’t want to leave lying around. With them, he threw in what was left of Leroy’s device.

The refugees used the horses to pull the lumber they cut from the wood, then they set about making planks. Even at a distance, Ellarkay could tell they were having trouble, but they persevered, eventually managing to make a long saw from one of the metal straps from the wagons. He was impressed with their resourcefulness.

He kept an eye out to see if any of the Furkind exhibited powers, which would mark them as the target of the hunt, but if they had any, they weren’t using them.

    *

Ellarkay was tending his garden when his old friend, the ground, let him know someone was approaching. He’d repaired the damage he’d done to it, and now he was making sure no weeds were taking roots. Not to be outdone, the wind also informed him he had a visitor, but it added details. The person was small; a child then. And she was clutching something made of cloth.

The lynx looked up, and the human girl froze in place. She was holding a doll made of old socks to her chest. He wondered if it had been made from what he’d given the refugees.

He tried to make his face a mask of anger, but looking at her, in her dirty and tattered dress, he just couldn’t. “What do you want?”

She shrugged.

With a sigh, he pushed himself to a crouch and rubbed the dirt off his hands. He looked in the distance and didn’t see any of the adults heading this way. They were too busy ensuring they could survive. They probably hadn’t even noticed she’d come here.

None of them would see it, so he let himself smile at her. “Had a hard trip, didn’t you?”

She nodded. “Are you going to protect us?”

The question made his anger flare. He was done protecting others. He’d come here because he didn’t want that responsibility anymore. Who was she to ask that of him?

The girl gasped and took a step back. Ellarkay forced his face to soften. She was just a child. He couldn’t be angry at her. All she wanted was to feel safe after going through only God knew what. Who was he to want to deny her that?

He looked around them. “This land, as far as we can see, it’s mine. Do you understand?”

Tentatively, she nodded.

“If something is on my land, that makes it mine, too. Do you know what I mean?”

Worry clouded her face, but she nodded.

“You don’t have to worry. I don’t treat the people on my land like you’ve been treated. If something is mine, I keep it safe.” He hesitated to continue, knowing he didn’t want to bind himself to her, and the others by extension, but she still looked fearful. “So long as you’re on my land, You’ll never have to worry about anyone coming to hurt you. I promise.”

Slowly, her fear dissipated, and a smile appeared on her lips. She believed him. Now he wouldn’t have any choice but to protect them.

He waved her away. “Now leave me alone. Go to your mother so I can go back to tending—”

Now she was hugging herself, crying. Before he’d realized what he was going, he was holding her. He couldn’t stand to see children cry. When her sobbing stopped, he took a step back.

“Where’s your mother?”

She pointed in the distance, not to the encampment, but where they had come from. From where they had been chased.

“I’m sorry.” Either her mother had died or had had to stay behind. Either way, this child wouldn’t see her again. “Is someone looking after you?”

She nodded, drying her eyes with the back of a dirty sleeve. A moment later, Ellarkay noticed movement coming toward them. He moved slowly, but he increased the distance between him and the child. He had no intention of giving any of the adults the impression he might be okay with having any of them here.

“Hermine!” the thin, almost emaciated vixen yelled when she was closer. “What are you doing here?” She bowed to the lynx, then faced the child again. “You know better than to wander away. We’re not to disturb the Lord.” Her tone was stern, but when she took the child, Hermine’s hand in hers, it was gentle. “I’m sorry, my Lord. I lost track of her. It won’t happen again.”

“Be sure of that,” he replied, his own tone firm. “I don’t want to be bothered by your children.”

She guided Hermine away, who looked over her shoulder at him. He didn’t realize he was smiling at her until she smiled back. Feeling much younger than he had in a long time, he went back to tending his garden.

    *

Over the following weeks, the refugees continued working. Ellarkay watched as they erected the bones of a large structure. All of the adults worked together, the way only people bordering on desperation could.

Unfortunately for him, that meant the children were left unattended. Hermine visited him every day, and it wasn’t long until the other children accompanied her.

He made it clear to them he wouldn’t tolerate being pestered, and they would play together under his discreet supervision. They would chase each other, making guns with their fingers. They would shoot one another down in random patterns, or so Ellarkay thought. He realized they were reenacting the fight around his shack when one of the children, one of the older ones, a wolf with mangy black and gray fur, pointed to the sky, then the ground. He made the sound of thunder, and those around him all fell back.

Ellarkay had almost jumped to his feet at that moment, intending to grab the youth by the ear and making it clear he wasn’t someone to be emulated. The lynx wasn’t a role model for them, not for anyone. The things he’d done shouldn’t be—

He’d controlled himself, reminded himself they were only children, playing a game. It wasn’t because one of them played his part in the theater they were creating that he would grow up to be like him. It was entirely possible that before now, none of them had had a reason to play games. He couldn’t take that away from them.

Not long after that, one of the adults appeared and collected them with bows and apologies. Words of ‘I’m sorry, my Lord.’ ‘It’ll never happen again, my Lord.’ ‘Please be merciful, my Lord.’

After the third day of this, the adult, not the children, was driving him crazy.

“Enough!” Ellarkay stood. This time it was a human man who’d come to collect the children, and he cringed, backing away. He was older, and like all of them, emaciated. Some were now hunting in the woods with spears they’d made, and others collecting berries and wild vegetables, but their improved diet wasn’t showing yet.

“I’m sorry, my Lord.” He bowed multiple time. “I’ll make sure they never—”

“Just leave them be.”

The man looked up, confusion on his face. “My Lord?”

“Stop calling me that,” he growled. “Leave the children alone. They keep to themselves.” The lynx looked at them, and they all looked at the ground. “So long as they don’t pester me, it’s fine. But if anyone of you bothers me, I will feed you to my fire, is that clear?”

The children nodded eagerly, but unlike the adult, there was a distinct lack of fear in their eyes. He shouldn’t have let his fire play with them, jumping from one dried branch they placed down to another. He’d never be able to use that to scare them now.

Not that he thought his fire would even do that. He was certain it liked them more than him at this point.

“My Lord,” the man was shaking, terrified. “I beg of you, they’re only children.”

Ellarkay was certain he saw one of the human girls, giggle. He sighed. “Fine, I’ll send them back to you if they bother me.” He leveled his gaze at the man. “Now leave, before I decide you’re the one bothering me.”

The human bowed as he backed away, then turned and ran off. A moment later, the children exploded in laughter.

The lynx let himself fall back in his chair, and it creaked in protest. He shouldn’t have done that. Now they were going to bow to him even more. He didn’t want that.

He didn’t want any of them here, he reminded himself.

He noticed how quiet things had gotten and he opened his eyes. The children were standing there, watching him.

“Well, what are you waiting for? Go back to playing.”

And they did.

He sighed. Even the children waited for his orders. He cursed silently. He didn’t want to rule, not again.

    *

Over the next two months, the refugees completed their large communal building and started in a handful of small houses. They’d taken their tents down, and had moved into the large building, although Ellarkay was reluctant to call it that. Even his own shack looked better built.

None of them were carpenters, and it wouldn’t take much to bring the structure down, so he’d ordered the wind to move softly around it. Even the storms had agreed to be gentle.

The fire had been tougher to control. They’d made their fire pit close to the wall, and the fire wouldn’t have to stretch much to reach it, and since it was always hungry, it had taken a lot of convincing to keep it from eating the structure.

He’d pointed out the people living there fed it well, and never let it go hungry, that while it would have a feast if it consumed the building, there wouldn’t be anyone left to feed it afterward and it would go hungry, even die. Fire wasn’t usually preoccupied with the future, it was a creature of the present much more than his other friends, but it finally agreed to behave, and promised that no matter how enticing it might be, it wouldn’t stray outside the fire pit.