Before the Storm, Chapter 3 (Patreon)

“Why do you keep staring at the front gate?”

“Huh? Uh, no reason.” Shit, am I that obvious?

I try not to look embarrassed as I look away from the gate, not liking that I was caught by one of my fellow recruits. I think her name is Hiruk?I’m gonna have to work on that. The staring thing, not the name. I thought Rurig was supposed to be here a few hours ago, but he wasn’t in the mess hall when I checked. I don’t know why I’m feeling so anxious. I saw them both just last night. I must just...want to make sure they had a good time.

I mean, I had a great time. With dinner and the before-dinner activities. But it also felt different. Like something between us changed. Ugh, what am I talking about? It was dinner and sex. Not even in that order. It was nothing. Just—I’m distracted from my thoughts by movement at the entrance. Thank the Three, they’re here, and I can stop talking to myself.

They both seem worried when they come in through the gate. I don’t approach them to find out why because again, I’m trying not to look obvious. I don’t want the other recruits to think I’m getting special treatment or something. They’re looking around, and when Rurig’s eyes finally fall on me, he smiles—for a second, before quickly frowning, and then trying to look neutral. He nudges Orlun, who looks at me and does the same. What did I do?

They don’t keep me waiting, both making their way toward me. Knowing we won’t have a ton of privacy here, I move away from where I’m leaning against one of the outer walls of the barracks, farther away from my fellow recruits. The way they both look at each other when they reach me, as if they aren’t sure who should start, makes my heart sink.

“Jarek...” Orlun starts, saying my name with concern.

“Is everything alright?” Better start building that wall back up.“Sir?”

“Everything is fine,” Rurig quickly jumps in, his soft voice trying to reassure me.

“I apologize.” Orlun grimaces. “It has been a very long day. And night.”

“Shit, right, the kidnapping and...explosion in the forest.” I forgot that Orlun, as Ranger Captain, would have been the one to deal with all that. He must have been up all night. “Sorry, it sounded awful.”

“It was, and there is still much left to do with the investigation.” Orlun sighs unhappily.

“Rurig!” All three of us turn to our right to see Pulmin, another cook, exiting the mess hall. “Where have you been?”

“I better go take care of this,” Rurig tells us with a grimace. “Sorry, kid.”

“It’s okay,” I tell him as he walks away from us and into the mess hell.

“Actually, I think he may be apologizing for more than just that,” Orlun sounds reluctant to continue. “You may be seeing less of us around here in the near future.”

“What?” My voice goes high-pitched at the new information. “I will? Why? I thought everything was okay.” Spirits, calm down.

“Yes, everything is okay with us,” he starts to reassure me. “It is just that, after last night, we—”

A loud explosion suddenly shakes the ground beneath us, and Orlun and I both nearly lose our balance. What the hell was that? Oh spirits... It came from the mess hall. The windows have all been blown out, smoke starting to pour from the holes.

“RURIG!” Orlun shouts, already running toward the building with me and several others right behind him.

Spirits, please let him be okay.

_________________________________________________________________

The scene inside of the mess hall is horrific with bodies thrown against the walls by the force of the blast. As the room fills with smoke, we try to locate the injured and pull them outside. Orlun manages to find Rurig under a flipped over table, unconscious and with his foot a mangled, bloody mess.

By the time everyone is out of the building and the fire extinguished, we have a little more information, but no real answers. From what the still-conscious could tell us, an unknown person entered the mess hall and pulled an object from his robe, casting a spell that then caused the explosion. As he was at the center of the blast, he obviously did not survive, or else we would have already started interrogating him.

Naturally, it is assumed that this was an attack by Warhunter’s group. Given the “explosion,” people are already suspecting a connection to last night’s attack in the woods—though Orlun seemed skeptical. Rurig was taken with the rest of the injured to the healer’s while the rest of the militia got to work relocating any important supplies to one of the two ranger stations, where they will be based until the militia headquarters has been repaired. I expected to be assisting them, but Orlun told me he needed my help with something special, and then led me to his and Rurig’s house.

“You want me to what?” My eyes go wide, making sure I just heard his request correctly.

“Look after our children,” he tells me again as we stand in front of Rurig and his home.

“I didn’t even know you had kids.” I look between Orlun and the house—that apparently has children in it.

“You did not?” He looks at me, surprised.

“No! You have literally never mentioned them. Neither of you.” Although I guess I can remember hearing some talk about the Ranger Captain and children in the past...

“I did not realize,” he responds sheepishly. “I am sorry. We have three. Two sons and a daughter.”

“Oh.” I’m not really sure what to say. “I don’t know the first thing about kids. What happened to their normal babysitter?”

“They...do not have one.” What? Then who’s been watching them while their dads have been at work? He looks at me pleadingly. “Please. I would not ask if it were not important. I need to go be with Rurig at the healers and do not want to leave them alone with everything that has happened in the last twenty-four hours.”

“I... Alright, I’ll watch them.” I can’t say no. I don’t want these kids to be alone, and I don’t want Rurig to wake up at the healer’s alone either.

“Thank you. Thank you so much.” The look of relief on his face helps too. “I will introduce you before I go.”

“Probably a good idea,” I mumble to myself. What am I getting into?

“Khazak, Ayla, Yogik,” Orlun calls out after opening the front door and leading us inside.

“Orda?” A young voice calls out from the hallway.

A small green head pokes out from the side of the doorway. A little boy it looks like. After seeing his father, he rushes into the room and is quickly followed by two other children, a girl and an even younger boy who toddles as he walks. Orlun kneels down as they approach, embracing and squeezing them against his chest in a tight hug.

“We heard a loud boom,” the little girl tells him. Shit, they must have heard the explosion.

“Where is Ruda?” the boy asks, realizing Rurig is not with Orlun.

“Who is this?” the little girl asks next, noticing that I am in the room.

“This is Jarek,” Orlun tells her, releasing them so they can look at me. “He is a good friend of mine and Ruda’s. Jarek, this is Khazak, Ayla, and the little one hiding behind Ayla is Yogik.”

“Hello.” As I wave awkwardly over Orlun’s shoulder, Yogik cowers behind Ayla’s back.

“Where is Ruda?” Khazak repeats, eyeing me suspiciously.

Orlun pauses, looking at his children thoughtfully before speaking. “Ruda is with the healer. He was hurt.”

“Ruda was hurt?!” Ayla cries out. Yogik immediately starting to bawl behind her.

“Yes, but he is going to be okay,” he tries to reassure them. “I am going to go be with him now while Jarek looks after you.”

“I thought I was in charge,” Khazak looks down, sounding disappointed. He was in charge?!

“You have done a great job, little one,” Orlun tries to comfort his son. “But it will be safer with Jarek. It is just until Ruda and I get back.”

Khazak doesn’t say anything, just nods, still looking at the floor.

“Is Wuda okay?” Yogik speaks his first words through sniffles, hugging his father again.

“Yes, I promise.” I’m no parent, but I don’t think that’s the kind of promise you make. “We will both be home soon.”

“Okay.” Yogik sniffles and allows his father to stand.

“Thank you again.” Orlun turns to me with a hug. “I cannot tell you how grateful I am.”

“Just...hurry back soon, okay?” I hug him back.

“I will,” he tells him with a chuckle before kneeling down to hug his children again. “Your father and I love you all very much.”

“Love you too, Orda,” Khazak says first. “And tell Ruda I love him, too.”

“I love him too!” Yogik repeats next. “Tell him, Orda. Please.”

“Tell him I love him the most,” Ayla finishes, all three of them holding on to their father as long as they can.

“Behave and listen to Jarek,” Orlun tells them after standing. “Ruda and I will be home soon.”

With a final sad smile, he exits the home, closing the door behind him. Alone with the kids, I walk into what appears to be the den with couches and an unlit fireplace in one corner.

“Was Ruda hurt bad?” The question from Ayla catches me completely off guard.

“He...” Spirits, that didn’t take long. I should lie to them, right? “He’s going to be just fine.”

And the truth is, I do think he will be. In the immediate aftermath of the explosion, the biggest concern with him and several of the others was blood loss from their wounds. I have very, very low-level nature magic, and along with some of the others, I was able to use that to stop the worst of it. The healers should have an even easier time. But when I think about the state his mangled foot was in... Not the time to think about that.

“How did he get hurt?” Khazak’s question throws me off even more than his sister’s. “Was it the loud boom?” DO NOT ANSWER THAT!

I look at a clock on the wall, groaning mentally when I see that it is still far too early to feed and put them to bed. Probably. “What do you usually do together before dinner?” I ask, sidestepping the question entirely.

“Play games, tell stories,” Ayla starts counting on her fingers. “Take turns changing Yogik’s diaper.”

“Don’t wear diaper anymore,” Yogik tells her, his tiny eyebrows scrunching together in anger. “I like colors.”

“He means coloring. Like art,” Khazak informs me, still looking very unhappy. “We have chalk, but we’re not allowed to play with the paints without Orda or Ruda.”

“Oh, sometimes we practice our archery in the backyard!” Ayla tells me proudly.

“We’re not supposed to do that without Orda or Ruda either,” Khazak corrects her.

“You weren’t supposed to tell him!” She stomps her foot on the ground.

“How about we play a game?” Because the Three themselves could not convince me to give these tiny monsters equally tiny weapons. At least this will hopefully distract all of us from thinking about Rurig.

“Okay. I’ll pick!” Ayla rushes over to a low shelf on the opposite end of the room.

“Not gornop!” Khazak chases after her. “You always pick that one.”

“You just don’t like it because I always win,” Ayla taunts her brother.

“Only because you always cheat!” Khazak challenges, shouting in her face.

“I do not!” Ayla yells back in his.

“You hide extra tokens in your pocket and add them to your pile when you think no one is looking.” Damn, this kid is observant. “I counted last time.”

“Maybe not gornop?” I call over, trying to defuse the situation.

They seem to accept my request, with Ayla wearing a frown—which grows when Khazak sticks his tongue out at her. What did I agree to? While his older siblings fight, Yogik has been shyly watching me from behind a large throw pillow he’s holding in his lap. It’s honestly pretty adorable.

“We can play tuk-tuk!” Ayla announces, holding a small wooden box in the air.

“Fine, we can play tuk-tuk,” Khazak acquiesces with a grumble.

“Do you know how to play?” Ayla asks as she places the box on the low table between the couches before opening it.

“I do, but I’m not very good,” I lie, my gaze wandering over to Yogik, who immediately hides behind his pillow. “Do you wanna help me? Be on my team?” At his age, he probably isn’t very good at board games, if he understands them at all.

He peeks out from the side of the pillow, biting his lip before nodding. With a smile, I pat the seat on the couch next to me, watching as he slowly slides off of the other couch and climbs up next to me. While Ayla sets up the game board, Khazak takes a seat on the couch where Yogik was, still frowning and glowering at his lap. I swear, he looks like a tiny, grumpy version of Orlun.

Tuk-tuk is a very basic children’s game. After selecting a small wooden token, each player starts at a different location on the board, an equal number of spaces apart. The tokens are usually carved into the shape of an animal and painted a solid color; Ayla chooses a red cardinal, Khazak a gray wolf, and I let Yogik pick out a coiled green snake for the two of us.

At the start of their turn, the player rolls the dice and moves their piece forward, hoping not to land on any of the trap spaces along the way. Things like mud bogs, rope traps, and pitfalls will leave a piece stuck for one or more turns while everyone else continues moving. When one player’s piece overtakes another, that player is out, with the game’s ultimate goal being to overtake all of the pieces on the board and be the last one standing.

I let Yogik roll the dice for our team of two, which more often than not he does with more force than is needed, sending them flying to the floor. I help him move our little green snake around the board, counting the spaces out loud and then asking him about the space we landed on. I can’t exactly say I’m having fun, but it’s pretty cute.

The kids at least seem to be enjoying themselves, for the most part. Yogik squeals and claps excitedly each time we land on a space that isn’t a trap, and I can see Ayla’s competitiveness coming out as the game progresses. Khazak, however, has continued to scowl from his seat on the couch since we started. It almost seems like he’s angry to be playing this, and I even catch him glaring at me once or twice.

“You never told us what happened to Ruda.” I freeze at his sudden question, half bent over the board.

“I, uh...” Shit, that didn’t last long. “I’m not sure I should tell you.”

“Is it really bad?” Ayla asks, her voice filled with concern.

“Is Ruda okay?” Yogik looks at me, his eyes already starting to water.

“Nono, your Ruda is gonna be just fine. I promise,” I try to calm him down quickly. “The healer will look at his foot and—”

“What happened to his foot?” DAMMIT! Khazak’s question cuts me off before I can say more, but it’s too late—Yogik starts bawling.

“Look what you did!” Ayla chastises her brother, walking around to Yogik.

“I didn’t do anything!” Khazak argues. “Yogik never cried when I was in charge.” He stomps his way out of the den, slamming the door on what I'm guessing is his bedroom.

“It’s okay, Yogik,” Ayla helps me to calm her younger brother. “Orda and Ruda will be home soon and everything will be fine. Right?” She looks to me for confirmation.

“Right.” I nod, really hoping that I’m not lying. “...How long have you all been staying home alone at night for?”

“It feels like forever...” She worries her lip as she thinks. “It started right after Orda came home and said Mr. Warhunter did something bad.”

“Spirits...” I mutter to myself. They’ve been alone the entire rebellion? What were Orlun and Rurig thinking!

After Ayla and I manage to stop Yogik’s crying, there is little to be done about salvaging our game, especially with Khazak pouting and refusing to come out of his room. So, I decide that it’s time to make dinner, leaving Ayla and Yogik to entertain themselves for a little bit. After what Ayla told me, I think they can handle a few minutes alone in the den.

I search through the kitchen’s two ice boxes for something suitable. There’s what looks like precooked meals Rurig probably set aside for the children, cubed meat that looks like it’s been seared in a pan, but I still have to find something for myself, and end up settling on a simple sandwich made with some sliced pork.

I spend far too long looking for matches to light the oven with before remembering I can just use magic. I can get a little forgetful in high-stress situations, and I think this definitely qualifies. It’s not every day you’re only meters away from an explosion that kills and maims several of your friends and comrades and are then asked to look after the three children of your sorta-lovers, one of who was hurt in the aforementioned explosion.

“What are you doing here?” I ask myself out loud. I can’t help but bark a laugh in response. If I stop and start to think about it, it feels like I’m losing my mind. Not that I’m not going anywhere; I’m not cruel. They’re children and they clearly need someone to look after them.

I can’t believe I didn’t remember they were parents. I mean, they obviously don’t talk about their children much, but Orlun’s the fucking Captain of the Rangers. It’s public knowledge. I wonder if that was intentional. Did they think it would scare me off? I mean, it might have—I’m not exactly loving the situation they’ve left me in.

I have no idea what kind of parents they are. Only that they seem to be perfectly fine leaving their three young children home alone—during a war, even if no one is calling it that yet. Fuck, didn’t I hear they found a kid last night, too? Seriously, what were they thinking?

“Who the hell leaves an eight-year-old to look after another eight-year-old!” I say out loud in frustration, running my hand through my hair.

I hear a sudden noise on my right and turn my head, just barely catching the sight of Khazak’s head leaning in the doorway. He has a hurt look on his face, but before I can say anything, he turns and runs away. I hear the slam of a door as he holes up in his bedroom once more. Great job, Jarek.

I manage to finish heating the kids’ dinner without any other issues, but eating together is still plenty awkward. Yogik doesn’t seem to notice as he happily and messily chews and swallows, but the other two are quiet. Khazak is still wearing his scowl as he silently pushes the food around his plate.

“May I be excused?” he asks after barely eating anything.

“Sure,” I answer, not knowing what else to do.

Not long after, Ayla and Yogik both finish, and I handle the clean-up while they go back to entertaining themselves because I’m pretty sure that’s what babysitters are supposed to do. Afterward I look at the clock, and it seems late enough for bedtime, at least for the three-year-old.

“Will you read me a story?” he asks, right back to the timid little boy I saw hiding behind his sister.

“Sure.” I’ve never tucked someone in before, but it turns out I don’t mind it so much. Especially not when he asks for a bedtime story. I love reading.

He picks out a book from the tiny bookshelf in his room, The Hunter and the Fox, a classic children’s tale. As I read aloud about the cunning fox sending the hunter on a wild chase through the forest, Yogik begins to slowly nod off, sound asleep before I’m even halfway through the story. Sliding the book back onto the shelf, I exit the room, closing the door quietly behind me.

Ayla and Khazak follow not long after that, Ayla insisting she does not need to be tucked in, and Khazak not saying anything at all. Which leaves me in the den for the rest of the night, alone with my thoughts. I spend the first half of the night doing very little sitting as I pace around the room, going between worry about Rurig’s condition to annoyance with him and Orlun for putting me in this position. That goes on for a few hours until finally at some point, I pass out on one of the couches.

The next morning, there’s still no word from Orlun or anyone else for that matter. I’m not really sure what to do. It’s technically a school day, but I doubt Orlun would want me sending them if they’re even open after everything that’s happened the last two days. I certainly don’t think I’d send my kids out after the militia base was attacked.

That leaves me to figure out breakfast, and then lunch, all while trying to keep the kids entertained or at least from biting mine and each other’s heads off. It doesn’t take long for the worried questions about their fathers’ whereabouts to start up again either, and I feel as though I might go insane with stress when there is finally a single knock at the front door.

“Orda!” All three children cry in unison when the man enters the den. Thank the Three.

“Hello little ones.” He kneels down to embrace his children. “I missed you. How are you?”

“We’re okay, Orda,” Ayla answers for her siblings. “Where is Ruda? Is he okay?”

“He is fine. Just still resting with the healer,” he tells them as he straightens his posture. “We are hoping he will be well enough to bring home in the morning.”

“I miss Wuda,” Yogik tells his father, pouting.

“I know, Yogik.” He pulls his son in reassuringly. “He misses you too.”

“Are you staying, Orda?” Khazak asks his father as he stands up.

“Yes, at least for a little while until I need to go see your father again,” he answers with a smile. “Now go and play. I need to talk to Jarek for a bit.”

The kids nod reluctantly as Orlun pulls me into the kitchen so we can speak with some privacy.

“Thank you again for doing this.” He hugs me, and I find it a little difficult to hug him back right now.

“Is Rurig really going to be okay?” I’m really hoping he wasn’t just bullshitting his kids in there.

“Yes, though...” He grimaces before continuing. “They had to amputate his foot.”

“What?” Oh no.

“There is a healer in Pákannon that is supposedly skilled enough to regrow lost limbs, and the militia offered to pay for his services, but Rurig insisted that the money and the healer would be better spent taking care of the rest of the injured or any future victims.” He huffs an annoyed laugh. “Damn prideful fool. They are fitting him with a prosthetic tomorrow.”

“Fuck.” It feels like the wind has been taken out of my sails. “Is he okay? Mentally, I mean?”

“Yes, at least he claims.” Orlun nods sadly. “He says that he is fine, but I know he is more upset than he is letting on.”

“That sounds like him.” I can’t help but smile at that. At least for a second. “I’m glad he’s alright but...”

“What?” Orlun watches me, concerned.

“What exactly has been going on around here?” Time to get that wind going again. “You have three kids? And you’ve been leaving them alone while the city turns into a warzone?”

“Excuse me?” He’s taken aback by my change in tone. “I understand that you are upset over only just learning about them, but that is not—”

“No, I’m not upset about that,” I quickly correct him. “I mean, it is weird that neither of you ever brought them up even once, but I’m talking about the fact that you left three kids whose combined ages are far less than mine home alone to take care of themselves. What were either of you thinking?”

“I’m sorry. I did not realize you were a father.” He sneers at me. “Who exactly are you to tell either of us how to raise our children?”

“The guy you left them with at a moment’s notice!” I fire back. “A complete stranger to them, I might add!”

“You do not know the first thing about my children!” he shouts in response.

“That’s my point!” Aaaaaand now we’re both yelling.

“My children are just fine!” He looks and sounds pissed off now. “They are more than capable of handling themselves.”

“Yeah, they seem really fine.” I roll my eyes. “Your youngest son is completely terrified while the oldest is stuck acting like an angry brat!”

Of course, right then is when we both hear a noise, and we turn and see that Khazak is once more eavesdropping on whatever is going on in the kitchen. Not that I blame him since we are basically yelling. But still, I feel even shittier when he runs off a second time after hearing me talk about him like that. That kid definitely hates me now.

“You have no right to tell me how to parent my children.” Orlun pokes me in the chest to regain my attention.

“You know what? You’re right. I don’t.” I bat his hand away, turning and walking toward the door.

“Jarek, wait—” he calls out.

“Have a great fucking life, Orlun.” As I slam the door behind me, I lie to myself, thinking that I’m more than happy to no longer be part of it.