Okay, so I'm blabbing a bit, so why don't you just enjoy the chapter…
I don't own the characters. I own the depressing story I put them in.
Chapter Seven: New leader
"Well," said Ralon, looking around him at the faces in the clearing, all of them shocked. "We'll sort everything out in the morning." He started to walk towards his horse to collect his tent and bedroll, then stopped. He didn't have to do it himself…
"You," he ordered, snapping his fingers at a boy whose face reminded him vaguely of a squashed wolfhound's, "Get out my tent and bedroll and set them up over there. You - " the boy next to him "- help him, but first, get my knife for me."
The youth bent down and retrieved Ralon's knife wordlessly. Ralon nodded. "I need to get some rest."
Later, when he lay inside his tent, he realized he had made a bog mistake. He had read about rebellions in Tortall and the rest of the world in Sir Myles' class. Many had happened during the course of a new leader overtaking an old one - by combat. He knew that Bleid's friends didn't like him. What if they tried to kill him? They would try to avenge Bleid, for sure. Bleid was their leader, and they didn't want a new one.
By killing Bleid, he had taken up Bleid's leadership position. By killing Bleid, he had put himself in a place that the followers might not want him to be in. Ralon shivered, holding the damp cloth harder over his swollen eye. Fear was not unknown in his childhood. His mother had whipped all four of her sons, so that none had shed a tear at her funeral six years ago, yet they had all managed to grow up so conceited, so arrogant.
And now, if the others should decide to kill him, he could do nothing about it. He was outnumbered, he was injured, and he was scared.
The next morning he woke up feeling no better than the day before. The pain from the fight had doubled during the night, and his eye felt a hundred times bigger than it had. Gently, he eased himself out of his bedroll. Gasping, he sat up and marvelled at the miracle that he was still alive.
Ralon had expected them to come kill him off during the night! His 'sleep' had been a series of interrupted dozes, waking up every so often as if to check that nobody was sneaking up on him. Breaking into a cold sweat every time he heard a noise, hardly daring to move in his bed, he should have been relieved in the morning, finding himself still alive, but somehow, he was more frightened than before.
Holding his head in his hands, Ralon readied himself to get up. He opened the tent flap and sunlight flooded in, blinding him momentarily. He swore loudly and took a swig of brandy from a nearby flask to clear his head. It was not going to be easy.
Slowly, after what seemed like a millennium, he crawled out of the tent and sat on the dirt outside. Then, using a stick as a cane, he 'pushed' himself upright, panting, his head still spinning.
All he could think of was the pain in his arms, legs and back. He tried to take a step and tears almost welled up in his eyes. So he stood, leaning on his stick for support until the boy with the squashed wolfhound's face came over to him.
"Uh… Zen?" the youth tried tentatively. He took in Ralon's swollen eye, his shallow breathing and his sandy blond hair, crusted with blood.
Ralon turned his head painfully to look at the boy. "What?" he asked, voice crackling. He didn't want anyone to see him in this state.
"I, er… I brought you some water." The boy handed Ralon a waterskin and Ralon frank greedily, keeping one hand on the stick. He poured the remaining half over his head, and felt not-so-dizzy.
They made their way back to the clearing, where the fight had taken place, and Ralon, not wanting to seem weak to the others, dismissed the boy and walked by himself. It wasn't early, so as Ralon walked, he noticed a few of the others sitting as he went past. The he came across Bleid's dead body.
Ralon's stomach lurched, and he just managed to keep the sick in. Bleid was dead, and Ralon had given that to him - a bloody, painful ending, and now his body was exposed to the sun, left to rot while his killer stood over him.
Ralon staggered into some nearby bushed and threw up violently, until he choked and spluttered with the sour tang of bile. Bleid would never torment him again. He took a swig from his brandy flask and felt the fiery liquid burning through him. He had killed someone - a real person, not like the bird he had drowned when he was nine. Someone had dies because of him, because he had wanted to kill him. Because now, he had power.
Ralon wondered why Bleid's body hadn't been disposed of, but that was alright, it wasn't as if he had to do it himself. Walking back to the body, he called for a few of the boys to take the body away and burn it, trying not to look faint at the sight of blood. For a leader could not be so squeamish.
It was then that he realised that these boys really had accepted him as a leader, whether they liked him or not. Ralon knew that he had things to learn about this way of life, for when he was a noble, what he didn't like, went.
But here, it was different. Ralon was still the boss, though he felt quite raw about it, but his subjects would do what he told them to, they wouldn't question his orders or murder him, as long as he was heir leader.
It didn't even matter whether he was a good leader or a bad one because he became leader by proving he was better than the old one. And he would keep on being leader until he, or all of his subjects, were dead. Ralon realised he could go a long way from here - this could really pay off…
"All right," he announced, as the group gathered around the big fire to watch the flames licking up into the sky, "The next thing we need to do is get out of here." The boys turned around to look at their new leader, at least a couple of inches shorter than any one of them. None of them put to their lips what they were thinking, that this boy was probably going to be the reason for their deaths.
So, any feedback, any ideas you would like to submit to me, please feel free to press the review button. Sorry this chapter was so short, but I just wanted to express one point here, and originally the part about seeing Bleid's body and vomiting was going to be in the last chapter, but I decided to end it there for effect.
Also, in this chapter there are maybe some morals for this bunch of boys that some people may not agree with. I'm trying to create the sort of atmosphere where these followers with always be the followers of whoever that's good enough to be a leader of theirs, i.e. able to kill the old leader through combat. There's this 'no question' sort of theme running in their community, just like back at the mining village where people where whipped for questioning orders. The boys have this sort of discipline, but Ralon is not used to it…
I know this might not be the way you see this sort of gang and society, but it is how I think it should work, so please, please let me know what you think so I can compare my ideas with others - no-one I've talked to so far understands why they even have a sort of system like this at all sniff.
But anyway, thank you to all the people who are reading this and have come this far with the story. I value you all. Truly I do.
Thanks to the reviewers: Lil Miss Barton, Lil Miss Barton and Alcapacien.