[Bronze Wood] Suspicions (Sam)

[Ulric]

“Reward?” Ulric felt a smile creep onto his face. He had been thinking along the same lines as Sam. “Well, they’d certainly better, hadn’t they? But I wouldn’t hold my breath.” He would’ve preferred to snatch the purse and run, but you had to be pragmatic about these things. No amount of gold mizas was worth risking the wrath of Syliras’ iron-fisted rulers. It was unfortunate, especially since Ulric had dealt Eydil the bulk of his funds, but it was also true. Ulric studied the corpse. He desperately wanted to remove the bolt from its head, hoping that would divert suspicion, but that was behavior of the guilty. If he did, it would probably only inflame Sam’s doubts about his innocence. “Getting him back is going to be a bitch,” Ulric scowled. He hadn’t had the misfortune to convey a body through woodlands before – let alone a heavily armored one – but he imagined it would be unpleasant. Still, some things just had to be done.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

"Well," Sam said slowly, "we could have Horse here carry him. I'll walk, so it won't be that much more of a burden. He," he corrected himself with respect for the deceased. "And if there isn't a reward, at least us bringing him back to the City will help us make a case for our innocence. I mean, really... if we did it, why would we bother taking him back? And even if they want to blame us, they can't prove anything. Though... you might want to stash that crossbow somewhere..." He wasn't exactly sure it was the best idea to take the knightly corpse back to Syliras, but it was in line with his desire to do the right thing when at all possible. He had stolen, of course, but that was to escape slavery and to survive. He had killed for the same reasons. Necessity was sometimes the higher good, but he didn't really have time to figure out how his own personal code of ethics jived with this situation because Ulric was there and Ulric could cooperate or he could back stab him in the end. "Well, what do you want to do, then?"

[Ulric]

“Let’s take him back,” Ulric said. Sam had made quite a few good points – especially about the crossbow. It was a rather cumbersome weapon, but Ulric supposed he could always wrap it in his cloak and lash the bundle to his pack. He’d have to pray that the guards at the gate were less than thorough. Ovek, if you screw me on this one…. “Help me get him up,” Ulric said. He slid his hands beneath the corpse’s armpits and heaved, wrestling it partly off the ground. Even though the knight was small of stature, his layers of mail, plate, and boiled leather must have added a good fifty pounds of deadweight. Still, Ulric wasn’t too keen on removing the armor, lest the knight’s brothers take exception. He wondered how any of them could possibly move – let alone fight – in such cumbersome attire. “So, what brings you into the Bronze Wood?” Ulric grunted at Sam. He felt oddly loquacious. “Me, I’m from the outskirts of Ravok. I daresay you can still smell the reek of scales and brine on my hands. Been making my way across the wildlands for most of the spring, nearly getting killed more times than I can count.”

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

When Ulric cast his vote along with Sam's, he dismounted Horse with the usual ease, then unstrapped his scimitar from the saddle and lashed it across his back where he could get to it if they were attacked by anyone or anything along the road back to Syliras. As quickly as he could, he grabbed the dead knight's ankles, trying to keep purchase on the slick metal of his leg greaves, and helped Ulric get the body up and over onto Horse's back. It took a few words in Pavi to keep Horse still; he didn't like the smell of death any more than any other animal that was neither predator nor scavenger, but he was accustomed enough to trusting Sam that he did what he was told. He considered throwing a blanket or a cloak over the corpse, but didn't want his things to be cursed by death or even the scent of it. He cast a quick glance at Ulric when the man started getting friendly. Sam wasn't adverse to making friendly conversation, but meeting the man in the situation he had made it seem strange. "I hunt and trap and gather," he offered. "Not a lot of hunting until I get a new bow, though. I've only been around these parts for the spring myself... The knights don't seem so bad. I'm not keen to become one, mind, but most of the ones I've seen have been all right."

[Ulric]

“Another outlander, eh?” Ulric stepped back from the horse. “Can’t say I’m too surprised, though you don’t seem to have the look of one. I’d wager you’re from up north – Nyka, perhaps. Now there’s a city I’d rather not hang about.” Ulric went and retrieved his crossbow, noticing that his hands were smeared with blood. Well, that’s certainly not going to go over well with the knights, he scowled. Wiping them (ineffectively) on his trousers, he removed his sable cloak and wrapped it around the crossbow, then lashed the bundle to his pack with fishing line. But wait – what if I need it? Ulric’s brow furrowed. He was loath to continue without his favorite weapon to hand, but then again, he wasn’t traveling alone. Sam might prove himself useful as a distraction, or even by taking an arrow in the throat, allowing Ulric to flee a potential ambush. Yes, there were always benefits to companions. One-sided benefits, yes, but the selfless tended to die young, and Ulric planned on living until he was a bitter, wizened old man. “Well, on to Syliras,” Ulric forced a smile. He began to walk through the trees, and then realized that he didn’t have the slightest idea where he was headed. “Um, I take it the city is that way?”

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

"Another outlander," he agreed, nodding. "Grew up in Sunberth, though," he said, which was partially true. "Went up toward Nyka, but got a bad feeling about it and changed course. Avoided Ravok, too. My hunches might have been wrong, but better safe than sorry. Better alive than dead." He shrugged and untied his scabbard from Horse's saddle and lashed it across his own back, then said a word in Pavi to Horse, who then followed him without needing a guiding hand on his reins. He could have his scimitar in hand much quicker this way. "This way," he said, routing the quickest direct way back to Syliras so he wouldn't have to share a camp with Ulric. He didn't want to wake up with his own throat slit, after all. That would be terribly inconvenient.

[Ulric]

Ulric strode through the shadowed forest with a feeling of apprehension and dread. His senses were sharpened, his axe to hand, and his bladder – well, his bladder was uncomfortably full. Hopefully that wasn’t a premonition of dangers ahead. Or of sodden trousers. Which would I prefer? Ulric wondered as he placed one foot in front of the other. I’d probably piss myself. It may be embarrassing and uncomfortable, yet it’s hardly going to kill me. I’d probably do it for ten mizas. Shyke, I’d piss my trousers every single day for the much, and live in the lap of luxury. Ulric cast a sideways look at Sam. I bet he’d choose danger – but then again, what the petch do I know? Ulric scowled. He still needed to piss. “Um, I need to stop for a moment,” he turned his back to Sam and fumbled with his trousers. Ah, sweet relief, Ulric sighed as he stared off into the trees. It probably wasn’t the finest of idea. If Sam was feigning innocence, this was the first . In time, an order of priests might erect a small outhouse on the site with an inscription that read, ‘Here lies Ulric, slain while he pissed,’ to safeguard travelers from a similar, humiliating demise. Maybe another day, Ulric smiled as hitched up his trousers… and then his jaw dropped. “BEEEEAA-” he started to bellow, and then stopped. No, it was just his eyes playing tricks upon him – the bastards. “Er… never mind,” Ulric felt his face redden. “Just a bit jittery,” he said by means of explanation.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Sam had quietly and calmly led the way, not talking if Ulric wasn't of a mind to do so. Then suddenly he was pissing in the underbrush, and Sam stopped without comment. Horse didn't look unduly pleased to be carrying something that was beginning to smell, so he fished a red apple out of his pack and fed it to the hearse-horse. That seemed to please him. "That was some nice peein'-" he began, but his sarcastic jibe of a compliment was cut off almost before he had the last consonant in place. His scimitar was out and held at a dangerous angle before the abortive yell met its end. He might not have been a master swordsman, but he had the reflexes of youth to be sure. "Shyke, way to make my heart seize up for no good reason," he grumbled, though he was pleased not to die. "What'd you think you saw, a bear?" He turned in a slow circle, eying their surroundings, also looking for tracks on the ground around them. He saw none, and so he could not do as Jaeden had taught him, feeling paw prints for ambient warmth to ascertain just how long it had been since they passed. Horse wasn't reacting either, though he had shied away from Sam's quick draw. "I don't see anything."

[Ulric]

“What'd you think you saw, a bear?” Sam’s scimitar was out. Ulric scowled at his own lapse of nerves – or was it judgment? He’d probably made himself look like a total arse. “Bah, nothing to concern yourself over,” Ulric said, but Sam was having none of it, peering warily around the forest. “I don’t see anything,” Sam said finally. “Then I suppose all’s well with the world,” Ulric replied. He could have sworn that he’d spied a bear for a moment. It was probable that he was just paranoid, although he didn’t recall being this tense before, even after his near-fatal bear encounter in the wildlands. “Shall we continue?” he said. “I don’t suppose this corpse is getting any fresher the longer we stand idle. On to Syliras!” Ulric hoisted a fist into the air, a superfluous gesture that made him seem faintly ridiculous. Ah, screw it. I’ve come too far to start giving a shyke about what other people think of me. Ulric picked his way across the leaves and fallen branches, grateful for the shafts of pale sunlight that filtered through the canopy of leaves. It seemed to him that forests had their own personalities and moods, able to appear open and peaceful on one day, and stifling, empty, and menacing the next. Ulric had never honed his senses keenly enough to understand the minutiae of this ever-shifting tapestry. He heard birdcalls, although he never knew where they originated, and there was always some elusive rodent scurrying through the leaves to a burrow not a dozen paces from his feet. But the one, and perhaps only, detail Ulric never missed was the movement of larger creatures – especially bears. It was strange that his eyes were playing tricks with him. Or perhaps not. Hadn’t he seen a flash of mottled fur, a hulking form vanish amidst the trees? Horse hadn’t reacted, but there was always the possibility that the bear was upwind. If only there was more of a petching breeze, Ulric scowled up at the leaves. He couldn’t feel shyke, nor could he ascertain the direction it was blowing. Maybe Sam would know; he seemed to be woods-wise, or at least sharper than Ulric at reading these matters. “Which direction is the wind coming from?” Ulric raised an eyebrow, simultaneously reaching for the bundled cloak that contained his crossbow. It was unloaded, but if he could only… Shyke. There it was, no more thirty paces distant. Mottled fur, razor-sharp teeth, and coal-black eyes that stared at Ulric like he was four-course dinner while the beast waited patiently for its chance to tuck in. Well… “BEEEAAAARRRRR!” Ulric thundered as he charged in the opposite direction, tripping over concealed limbs and crashing through the briars, his breath ragged in his throat. This day was not turning out at all like he had expected.

[Sama'el Sunsinger]

Ulric, Sam had already noted, was a strange bird, but most people were to Sam's way of thinking, so he didn't think about it overmuch. Solitary people out in the wild tended to start seeing things from what he understood, which is why he made a point of mingling with humanity from time to time, even though settlements with walls made him nervous, walled in rather than protected. If it seemed strange that an outdoorsman such as Ulric seemed to be couldn't ascertain the direction the wind was blowing, well, it was chalked up to his general strangeness. But Sam had his scimitar resting on his shoulder and his eyes marking the treetops in an area where the tops could be seen from the forest floor in order to answer the man's question for him when Ulric started screaming like a little girl again. While Sam had heard the story of the boy who cried wolf, they were in the wild and as such subject to many dangers, which made ignoring such an alarum a stupid risk. And so it was a good thing that his reflexes brought his scimitar into a defensive form as his eyes began roving the oft-hatched horizon. Horse snorted nervously, which confirmed... Oh shyke, a bear. Horse reared, hoofs lashing out threateningly, though it was a defensive gesture on his part, surely. The knight's corpse, not strapped down, slid off Horse's back to land in a leaden lump on the ground. The crossbow quarrel stuck in his head was driven deeper and broken with an audible snap. "Horse," he called in Pavi, "defend!" The day couldn't possibly get any better.