[Flashback] Debts

[Ulric]

Ulric crawled so that he was lying directly beneath the lip of the furrow, bracing the crossbow so he could loose a bolt at the first warrior to enter his field of vision. He felt tendrils of fear creep down his spine, but in a way, he wasn’t as affected by them as before. Everyone dies, he thought, but at least I put up a good fight. Balancing the crossbow on his knees, he probed at his bloodied arm, and was relieved to find that the bolt hadn’t broken any bones. Its head was still lodged in his bicep, along with a splintered length of shaft – but he’d have to pull it out later. Right now, he had some men to kill. Straining his ears, Ulric tried to work out the position of his pursuers. He couldn’t allow them to creep around his flanks. In any case, since he’d been running at a slant, it might take them some time to find him. That, combined with the dense trees, uneven terrain, and paucity of light filtering through the canopy of needles, endowed him with the advantage of surprise. Have they split up? He tried to slow his breathing, clenching his teeth as a series of tremors swept over his body, and tightened his grip on the crossbow. Come on, let me put you out of your misery, he bared his teeth as the sounds grew louder, the suspense making his pulse race. Bear was the first to near Ulric’s position, searching the forest with hooded eyes. It was obvious they were using the trees as cover, and the carpet of needles to stifle their footsteps. How ironic, Ulric spat, for he’d used the same tactic to conceal his own presence. Try as he might, it was hard to discern the sound of footsteps from the rustling trees. He was on the verge of panic until the creak of boots betrayed Bear’s presence, and then a craggy face loomed up before him. “Got you, bastard,” Ulric snarled. Bear tried to leap aside, but the bolt punched into his gut, driving him back several paces. He stared down at the bolt, his eyes wide with disbelief, and then sank to his knees. No armor, whether it was plate, leather, or scale, could withstand the devastating effects of a crossbow at close quarters. Even as Bear’s eyes began to glaze over, the sword sliding from his limp fingers, Ulric was charging at Keg with a savage cry. Keg, it seemed, was just as astonished by the sudden counterattack. He fired his crossbow from the hip, but the bolt shattered on the stock of Ulric’s pilfered crossbow, ripping it from his grasp. Ulric grimaced as a splinter gouged a deep furrow above his eye. He staggered to one side, trying to blink away the blood that obscured his vision, while Keg snatched the long-handled axe from his weapons harness. “What the petch?” Ulric was unable to resist the rage that surged through him. He threw his axe at Keg, who reeled to evade the spiraling blade. It was a dangerous blunder, but Keg’s moment of hesitation allowed Ulric to close. He seized the axe with both hands, using it to slam the man into a tree, and delivered a butt. Keg cursed as blood began to stream from his nose, but he didn’t let release his grip on the axe. They struggled for a moment, but Keg was stronger. He ripped the weapon away, and then swept it around in a decapitating blow. Ulric beat a hasty retreat, drawing his dagger, and leaped in before Keg could finish him. His blade scraped against armor, and was torn from his grasp as the axe’s haft clouted him in the head. Ulric could barely see now, but he managed to knock the axe away with his elbow. Keg struck him, rocking his head back, but Ulric stood his ground. He drove his fist into the man’s nose, sending tendrils of blood flying through the air, but Keg didn’t seem affected by the blow. Ulric’s head swam as he took another shot, and then a boot crunched into his chest, sending him down on his back. Keg leapt on Ulric as he tried to regain his breath, knife at the ready, but Ulric seized the man’s wrist with both hands. He wrestled the arm away, so Keg punched him again, and then the blows descended like rain. “Guurgh,” Ulric moaned. He felt a rock by his hands, and reached for it. Keg was not blind to this gambit. Ulric thrashed around as the man wrenched the knife free, feeling the knife drag along his scalp, and then he smashed the rock into Keg’s ear. Keg groaned, a tremor seeming to run through his body, so Ulric struck him again. It seemed to be effective. Shoving the half-conscious man off his chest, he pounded him again, just to be safe, and sat back on his haunches. “Five down,” he chortled, “none to go.” Ulric’s mind was still addled, so the first thing he discovered was the thumb-sized splinter of wood lodged in his head. “Now that’s interesting,” he mused, and yanked it out. It didn’t hurt that much, which was odd. For some reason, it felt as if he was floating on a cloud, while staring into the rippling surface of a puddle. He also couldn’t hear too well. “No more fighting,” he promised. Keg was still alive, so he bound the man with cord from the crossbows and went to seek out Elena. Ulric had to pause at regular intervals to retch or steady his spinning head, but slowly his lucidity returned. “Five down, one to go,” he spoke again, and reeled toward the shelter. Elena rushed from the door as he neared, and Ulric gave her a lopsided grin. “So, I've decided that I enjoy killing." “Shut up,” she hissed, “we need to patch you up.” “With pitch?” “No, with thread.” Elena draped Ulric’s arm over her shoulder, trying to support his bulk as they teetered to the shelter. “Like a pair of trousers,” he mused, and then gazed off in the direction of the sea, frowning. “I think I pissed myself,” he said, moments before the world dissolved into a cloud of gray mist.

[Ulric]

Ulric awoke the next morning to find Elena gone, along with many of the things she had fashioned during her long winters on the coast. “Bitch thinks she can run from me?” He pressed a hand to his tender, throbbing head, drawing it along the row of thick stitches that seemed to be keeping the right side of his scalp on, and then checked the dressings on his other wounds. “I’m alive,” he said dully. It seemed a cruel joke. In proving that he was a killer, he’d driven away the one person in the world that might have cared for him - yet strangely enough, he didn’t care. “Go on and run,” he smiled wanly, envisioning the wild-haired women he’d met that morning on the beach. “I’m done with running.” Breaking his fast with a few strips of dried fish, he gathered his ragged, bloody gear and left the shelter, his lips clenched in a grimace as he limped through the forest. Keg was lying where Ulric had left him, although he looked decidedly worse for the wear. His bonds were too tight, and the sight of his blackened, grotesquely swollen hands was proof enough that he wouldn’t be leaving this patch of muddied ground under his own power. “So, how’s this going to work?” Ulric kicked Keg with his good leg. “Do I beat you to a pulp before you whisper all your deepest, darkest secrets, or should I get more… creative.” “Petch that,” Keg croaked, regarding his captor through pained, half-shut eyes. “What do you want to know?” Ulric raised an eyebrow. “That was easier than I thought.” “I’m just a hireling. I’m not being paid to keep quiet.” “I suspected as much,” shrugged Ulric. “Now, who hired you?” “Beran the Butcher.” “Beran,” Ulric repeated. He was aware of the butcher cum loan shark’s reputation for brutality, and to be honest, he wasn’t surprised. Kell had left Beran out more than seven hundred mizas, making him the single largest holder of the dead warrior’s debts. Still, something didn’t make sense. “Why the petch would Beran send five men to collect my head?” “Not you,” rasped Keg. “He wants Kell.” Ulric frowned in confusion. He was fairly certain that Keg wasn’t petching with him, but at the same time, the assertion that Kell still breathed was so completely ludicrous that he almost wanted to burst into laughter. “Kell’s dead.” “What?” “He died of a fever back in Ravok.” “No, that can’t be possible,” Keg’s eyes widened. “Beran said the pair of you had everything worked out. He said you faked the death so you wouldn’t have to pay the debt.” Unable to hold back any longer, Ulric roared with laughter. “What’s so funny?” Keg snarled. “Don’t you see? Beran and the others have been playing these games for years, but when the truth is finally staring them in the face, they see only deception.” “Oh, isn’t that dandy,” snarled Keg. “I feel much better knowing that I’ve died for nothing. Now, if you’re done gloating, do you think we get this over with?” “I suppose.” Ulric hefted his bearded axe, flinching slightly at the pain from his wounds. “Any last words?” “Don’t be dramatic.” Keg managed a smirk before Ulric brought the axe down on his face. He wiped the blood on the corpse’s armor, then drew his knife and began to saw at the straps, meaning to search for the caches of coin and gems that mercenaries often secreted on their persons. Kell was dead, but the debts.. well, those never went away. END

[Tabarnac]

XP Award! Ulric XP Award: Fishing +5; Wilderness Survival +1; Cooking +1; Intimidation +1; Seduction +2; Brawling +5; Storytelling +1; Interrogation +1; Rhetoric +2; Swimming +1; Teaching +1; Food Preservation +1; Stealth +3; Disguise +1; Observation +3; Mathematics +1; Tactics +3; Climbing +1; Shield +5; Dagger +3; Bearded Axe +5; Running +3; Medicine +3; Crossbow +3; Long-handled Axe +1; Wrestling +1; Unarmed Combat +1 Currency: 150 golden mizas in currency and salable salvage from the mercenaries Award: 1 son by Elena, see Tabarnac for details Additional Notes: As always, it was a joy to read your work. You also have a knack for earning XP that continues to surprise me, but happily so. Feel free to PM me if you have any questions or concerns. Keep writing!