Waking up from his brother blow, Jara looks around. Every face has the colour drain, the cloud that hangs over every head, the smell of fear and desperation is obvious. He can see that they have spread out to make as much speed towards the city.

The convoy moves towards the city. Even if they have travelled a few kilometres, they can still hear the fighting and screaming behind them. Jara doesn’t know how many people stayed behind to give their lives to protect the rest of the community.

As the gates come into full sight, Jara starts to shake off his knocked-out state. He looks around and sees that he is with women, children and elders. In the same wagon is Elder Helen. She has been with the group since its formation in his grandfather’s time.

He turns to Helen. “Where is my brother, Martell, Elder Helen?”

She looks sadly at him, her withered blue eyes filled with tears as her son and grandson stayed behind to protect the convoy. “He stayed behind to give us a chance.”

At first, he didn’t understand what she was saying. It starts to dawn on him the atmosphere in the wagon. His brother gave his life for him, Jara’s anger starts to rise, but he calms himself. This is not the time.

“Elder Helen, how many did we get out?”

She pauses and looks around. “All the children, womenfolk and us elders. Two hundred in all.”

Jara did a quick mental count, at least fifty men! That means not only his brother but also Helen’s son and grandson. “That means every able body man stayed behind, except me.”

His cowardice would sicken him. If he fought off his brother, he would be there protecting the convoy. But again, Martell had to defend him. Jara thinks, just because I am a scholar doesn’t mean I can’t handle myself.

Elder Helen, even with her loss, understands this man. He wants to protect but, in turn, is the one saved. This does not lessen the loss she has suffered but seeing this man, a leader of their community who would sacrifice his life for any one of them without a moment thought.

As the pace slows, Jara can see men have blocked the gate.

Jara jumps down and staggers a little with a nod, and runs to the front of the convoy to make sure that their passage happens.

He quickened his pace to move in front of the oxen of the wagons. Jara approaches the main gate. Sergeant Gurion is there with his men blocking the path.

Jara moves up; his breath is laboured but steady. “I am a part of the medical convoy. Please let us in.”

Gurion looks at this dishevelled man, blood staining his clothes and his face a mess of bruises. “Unless you can prove it, by order of the Marquess Barric, no one unless with authorisation can come into this town.”

With his temper frayed due to the death of so many of his people, he steps forward. For a moment there, the ground seems to shake with purpose. “You misunderstand me, sir, one way or another, and I shall be opening these gates for my people. You should stand aside.”

Gurion looks at him and has a similar but different feeling as he had with Mela. Unlike her, where it is an aura of peace and love, his man’s is full of passionate retribution and determination. A slight orange glow seems to be emanating from him, but that could be a trick of the light.

Even if this unarmed man seems to be forthright, he cannot forsake his duty. “I am sorry, sir, but I will not let you in. My people are at risk, and if you leave and spread the sickness, then it could cause a disaster beyond our understanding.”

Jara’s shoulders bunch, the fabric that his simple tunic is made of start to rip at the seams. That aura of hostility has increased ten-fold. Jara moves towards the barricade; each stomp of his feet sounds a resounding boom. The foundations themselves seem to shake slightly with each of his steps.

The spectacle paralyses Gurion; his hand wavers there for the order to shoot, as he sees behind Jara, a group of children, women and old people. Now he sees that it was these people why this man has so much rage. But for whatever reason, Gurion has his duty and if he must shoot down innocents, then so be it.

As he raises his hand to order to shoot, Eloise comes by with a basket of goodies. She stops and is stunned by the sight of Jara’s anger. “Gurion, please don’t shoot!” She yells. “That is Mela’s husband.”

At the same time, Jara sees Eloise, and that aura of retribution fades like it never existed. He shakes his head and bows. “If you could accept my sincerest apologies, Captain, I have had some shocks and not of the right of mind.”

Behind him comes wagons and carts filled with people; Gurion seems to dumbfound what to do. This is not his orders, letting in doctors and healers, yes, but there are children and families.

“I’m sorry I still can’t let you in for the safety of your people, Jara.”

That glint of hostility returns to Jara’s eye, Gurion flinches back from the intensity of that stare. He remembers being dared by his friends to stare at the sun, a stupid competition, but it showed who was the bravest. Jara’s fury has the same feel. After looking at him for twenty-second, Gurion had to turn his head or be blinded but Jara’s aura.

Gurion feels a light touch to his elbow, and he looks at sees Eloise trembling. He thinks she is staring at the crowd but notices her eyes are looking beyond that to a large dust cloud. Just then, he looks at the women and children. There is fear in their eye; more are looking at the dust cloud and edging their way towards the gate.

Elder Helen stumbles toward the barricade and says. “Young man, behind us is a large army. We only escape because of our menfolk. If you do not let us in and close the gate, we will be all dead, no matter what disease that affects the town.”

Gurion looks at Helen, her hands are shaking, and there is a tear line in the dirt on her face. He can’t help but believe her. “Soldiers stand down, let these people in.” He steps in beyond the town and calls out to the fighters above. “What can you see?”

One calls down, “Not much, but from the cloud, there is a lot of people on horses.”

Another yell, “There! That is a glint of metal. And another. Sargent, they seem to be telling the truth.”

He starts to see that the people are moving in the carts. He slips past them to have a good look himself. There are a couple of hundred people, not including their oxen and horses. This will take too long. He spots Jara and Eloise helping to move the crowd, and he looks back at the approaching cloud. Seeing that from his tours in the Northlands, that is at least a couple of thousands of soldiers coming their way, and they will be here in less than a half an hour.

He jogs over to Jara and Eloise. “You have to abandon your oxen and wagons. We need to get inside. They will be upon us too soon to wait for each cart to go in.”

Jara takes a deep breath, his face red, but before he says anything, Eloise steps in. “Are you sure?”

“They will be on us if we wait too long. Have everyone leave their stuff out here that they can’t carry by hand. Keep moving until you it the main square. My men will show you the way.”

Jara looks back at the approaching army, wishing he could do something more. Eloise tugs on his sleeve. “You should go in and tell Mela what is happening.”

Another person protecting him could imagine standing in front of this army only armed with a hammer. Jara blinks away from that vision. He should do what Eloise says; like an oppressed man, he walks toward the gate without a word.

As Gurion see the last come through, he orders. “Close the gate, post watches up on the walls and keep me apprise of the situation.”

With his men calling affirmative, he looks over and sees Eloise. She is comforting a small child. She looks up at Gurion. “Do you think we are safe?”

“The gate is old, but it is strong. The walls are high enough unless they have specialised siege equipment.” Eloise's face doesn’t seem to understand what he was saying. “We are fine, and the only issue will be food, water and the illness. We have to be stricter than before when it comes to quarantine.”

Gurion stops and thinks, what if there are not a hostile force? They could be a massive Mercenary Company from the Western City-States. He heads up the stairs to have a better look at them. He is taking the word of an unknown source, even if the girl he is fascinated with trust this Jara. In his opinion, Jara seems to be the one that should be feared, but after that strange aura gone, he seemed to be quite gentle looking.

Twelve metres, the wall is and over six thick. Nothing compared to the Western Dukedom’s fortification, but this is not on a frontier anymore, only occasionally do we have trouble with the Folk from the south and the occasional bandit chief, but no army has attacked Omri.

He turns to Eloise. “Do you know anything about this?” As she cannot meet his eyes directly, Gurion knows that the group knows of these people in his heart of hearts. “This army is here to attack you?”

“Gurion, we tell you the truth that we are here to help, but we have enemies. Groups that wish not for the old days to return. Please believe me, and this wasn’t what we wanted.”

He sighs, knowing that this beautiful woman wouldn’t put his life or town in jeopardy. Even though a niggling thought that if they didn’t come, this wouldn’t have happened.

“Please, Eloise, could you leave the wall and return to your people. I don’t know what is going to happen, but it could be bloody.”

As she leaves, she watches the army spread out and start setting up for a siege.