Battle for Cahbael

"If we go through this door now ... will we die?"
"Don't be silly!", Dramir snapped at his younger brother, aggressive as usual. "Nobody is going to die, especially not you!"
Gerrit lowered his head quickly. "If you say so..." He could not bring his squeky voice he hated so much to say much else. "You're bound to know, Dramir."
With his muscular arm, Dramir pushed his little brother hastily behind him for protection and lay his strong fingers lightly on the doorknob. Their only hope was for them not to be seen by the chancellor's soldiers as they hurried out, for there was no other way out of the house.
Slowly, he opened the door slightly and peered through the gap. The coast seemed to be clear - for teh meantime, anyway.
"Right, listen to me..", he began to say after he had closed the door again. Gerrit, now standing in front of him, was scared. "In a moment we will run out of the house and into the next ring of the city", Dramiar explained patiently, though he was very tense. His brother gave him a slight nod. "You know the way to the gate, don't you? Whatever happens, always keep your eye on the path and stay close behind me. If the soldiers catch up with us..."
Dramir felt anxious for a moment, but regained his compure again. "Well, that won't happen."
The situation swept fear into Gerrit's heart. Even his brother, his big and stronger brother Dramir seemed to be frightened of the chancellor's soldiers who, just a few moments ago, had broken through the gate to the northern part of town...
"Go!", resounded Dramir's mufflked cry. It sounded as if he wanted to turn all his nervous and scared tension into wild determination.
The street had a fair amount of sharp bends, which made it impossible to spy out encoming soldiers in advance. Gerrit kept his eye stoically on his brother's broad back, if only to have a trusted benchmark in the chaos that had suddenly descended upon them; the mild wind carried not only the pungent smell of burning to them, but also the threating sound of a battle being fought nearby.
Dramir ran quickly and Gerrit was having difficulties keeping up with him. On top of that, his little legs felt numb with fear - fear that could change to panic in any moment. From behind eveyr bend, out of every alleyway, Chancellor Baraleon's soldiers could storm out and would they not hesitate for long. "The chancellor", Gerrit had learned from his older brother, "has no mercy on renegades and rebels."; though little Gerrit did not understand why he was a rebel. And even less why the soldiers wanted to kill him.
"There's the gate, over there!", Dramir cheered, still running, and looked over his shoulder to make sure Gerrit was still behind him. Only his little brother saw the sword swinging at him, but Dramir felt it as it slit his stomach open. They had been seen by the soldiers. Dramir sank to the ground.
Gerrit's high pitched cry did not last long; for as two guards of the northern part of town rushed up and slew the chancellor's soldier who had struck Dramir with his sword, the young boy could not even move his limbs anymore and froze, horrified at the sight of death, his eyes opened wide. Every sound he wanted to make stuck in his throat and seemed to suffocate him.
"Damn it, Gerrit.", Dramir gasped. "Run to the gate, damn, go through the gate!"
One of the guards lifted the frozen Gerrit off his feet and rushed him towards the gate as the other attended to Dramir, trying to bring him to the safety of the next city ring. However the chancellor's soldiers did not let them go far.
Gerrit managed it. SUddenly he was on the other side of the gate, in safety... but his big brother Dramir was gone.
He was still afraid in fact. The calls of the chancellor's soldiers echoed over the city ring walls. "Baraleon shows no mercy for the renegades of the northern towal", a rough voice cried, sounding like a hangman on his way to the gallows. "All rebels here are condemned to death!"
In the middle of guards, rushing around in haste, the little Gerrit stood frightened and lost. The chancellor had captured the first part of the northern town, it was just a matter of time for the other parts.
"Death to the rebels!", voices resounded again and again. How he or his brother had been more than just citizens of the northern town, Gerrit did not know. In fact, in his childish innocence he did not even know what a rebel was.
Category:Nehrim: At Fate's Edge
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