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Post by Brandwyn on Jun 16, 2011 15:22:10 GMT -5
(OCC: This takes place in Meric and the fief directly to Meric's western side about 8 weeks after the Winter Revel in Norgate in the Year 657. Brandwyn is 18 years old.)
Brandwyn had been back home in Meric for about eight weeks after the Winter Revel and was in no better state than when she had arrived, or when she had recieved the letter from Tandar bfore the Revel that he would not be at there as they had planned.
Tandar was gone. Fleeing from her, or from himself, she wasn’t sure, but it didn’t matter. There was a big black hole looming in front of her and she was teetering on the edge, part of her wanting to fight back away from it and part of her wanting to fling herself into oblivion. She shivered in the mid-winter air and pulled her cloak tighter around her feet and legs, careful to keep from falling over the edge of the castle crenellation she was perched on.
Ian and Shanna had gotten married at the Faire and though back from their honeymoon, she hadn't had much time with her mentor since the Faire. He was off on some mission for the Baron and would be another two weeks before she could expect to see him and she wasn’t sure what to do with herself. The other Scout instructors had been trying to keep her busy, but it didn’t keep her mind off Tandar. She spent a lot of time on the highest battlements, looking out over Meric, knowing she would not see him riding up to the castle, but unable to resist looking for him just the same. With each day that passed she thought maybe this would be the day he would come home so the urge to watch for him grew stronger and stronger.
She pulled her knees up to her chest and rested her forehead on them, huddling inside her cloak she felt the tears begin to overwhelm her again. A gentle hand on her shoulder made her jump and she tensed, her hand going to the dagger in her boot.
“Lady, you should go inside, the sun is setting and it is going to be a cold one tonight.”
Brandwyn recognized the voice and relaxed, she had delivered a message to the man from Tandar’s apprentice, Tory. Brandwyn raised her head and looked up into the concerned face of Tory’s father and gave him a sad half smile and shrugged. “It doesn’t matter,” she replied dully and turned her gaze back to the hills beyond the castle.
Karl Waterton, the Master-at-arms of Meric, sat across from her, leaning up against the other side of the crenellation and folded his arms across his chest, his scabbard clinking against the cold stone wall. “I know why you are sad, Lady Brandwyn, Tory wrote of it in her letter. She asked me to watch over you.”
Brandwyn turned back, another smile on her face, this one of fondness for her ranger friend. “She is something, your daughter. I shall have to write her.” She wiped a tear out of the corner of her eye with the edge of her cloak, resting her chin on her knees as she took a good look at the slightly aged man before her. He was Master Ian’s friend, a nobleman and used to be a fully honored knight. Though he still held the title of ‘Sir’ if he wanted it, he preferred to not be reminded of his days of glory before he was injured and forced to give up his duties as a knight. She saw in his eyes that he knew what it was like to give up someone he loved.
“If you don’t mind me asking, how do you live with the ache when you can’t be with the person you love?” She really wanted to know, because she was already at her wits end and considering some rather wild courses of action.
Karl looked away, off toward a small village where Brandwyn knew Tory’s mother lived nearly a day’s walk from Meric Castle. “It is very hard. You have to struggle through one day at a time, sometimes even one hour at a time.” A haunted look came into his eyes. “Don’t believe them if they say it gets easier with time. It never has for me. All the time that I missed with Tory when she was growing up…I’ll never get that back.” His voice trailed off as he remembered snippets from Tory’s childhood. Then he shook himself and looked back at Brandwyn. “I try to stay busy and I steal time with her whenever I can, treasuring every moment with Tory and her mother. Being busy helps you to keep from dwelling on it.” Karl pulled his cloak tight about him as a gust of wind whipped through the battlements, ruffling Brandwyn’s hair and causing her to shiver.
“I am not sure I could get any busier,” Brandwyn muttered bitterly, “that seems to be the standard answer of all my instructors. I swear I have gone through 4 months of training in two weeks.” She said crossly and Karl chuckled in understanding. “It doesn’t keep me from thinking about Tandar every waking and sleeping minute though.” She shifted on the stone, trying to ease the tingling in her left buttock. She really had been sitting here too long. “Sometimes I imagine his face on the targets because I am so angry with him for leaving like that.” The tears overflowed her eyes and rolled down her cheeks. “Then I feel terribly guilty because I shouldn’t be mad at him. He is going through a tough time right now and the last thing he needs is me fighting with him. He has kept his word and is writing to me, but his letters are so- so- they don't tell me anything! All I know is he is still alive but he doesn't let me know what's going on with him and it makes me so angry. I’m so mixed up and I don’t know what to do. All I want to do is cry all the time and I am sick of crying.” She said crossly, wiping away the tears on her cloak again.
Karl slid closer and wrapped an arm around her. “Then go ahead and cry. His leaving is no different for you than if he had died in a lot of ways. You need to grieve before you can heal. You have to do that before you and he are going to be able to have any kind of life together – or apart for that matter.” The Master at Arms patted her back. “Being angry is normal too. He hurt you when he left, no matter what the reasons. He shut you out and that hurts. You have a right to cry and to be angry and you need to give yourself permission and time to do so. That is the only way you can get beyond it and forgive him so you can move forward.”
“B-b-but if I start c-c-crying, I am n-n-never going to sstop.” Brandwyn sobbed into her knees, comforted by the strong arm around her. Karl chuckled and pulled her close, rocking her back and forth like a baby. “Yes you will, it only feels like you won’t. Now go ahead and cry for as long as you like.”
Brandwyn shook her head and fought the tears back down. She was too embarrassed to cry in front of this strong, yet gentle soldier that she barely knew. She found herself wishing that he was her father and thinking that Tory was pretty lucky to have him as her Dad. Brandwyn would give anything to have her own father back alive again and even more to get her mother back. Ian was the closest thing to a father she had and he was not here when she needed him most. She felt guilty about being angry for Ian about that as well and it only added to her anxiety. If she didn’t do something soon, she was going to burst.
Another gust of wind nearly blew them off the wall and Brandwyn moved down off the crenellation to stand with her back against the wall until the strong gusts subsided momentarily. “I think you are right about the cold.” She smiled through a tear streaked face at Tory’s father. “I should go back inside.” She stood on tip-toes to reach him where he still sat on the battlements and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thank you, Sir. Tory is so lucky to have you as her father.” Karl’s face turned red and he stood up as well. “I don’t know about that, but if you need anything, you come see me, understand?” Brandwyn nodded. “I mean it, anything at all, even just a shoulder to cry on or a living pell to take your frustrations out on.” He grinned. “Sometimes it is good to turn that anger out in a practice, and I hear you are becoming a fairly decent swordswoman.”
Brandwyn gave him a half-hearted smile. “Well, I don’t know about that. Not sure where you are getting your information from, but I have been told I am ‘improving as well as can be expected,’ whatever that means.” She had mimicked her sword instructor’s voice so closely that Karl laughed outright.
“Well, if you want some practice with an old, beat-up ex-knight, you just let me know. This old dog could teach you a couple of tricks I am sure.”
Brandwyn did smile then, “I think I would like that Sir, Thank you for – well, for everything.” She shook his hand and then turned to walk back down the battlements. Turning back for a moment she said, “You really have helped me tonight. Thank you.” Then she walked off and Karl watched her until she turned and entered a doorway to the steps leading down off the walls.
Sighing he turned back to scan the darkened countryside, wondering just where that young girl’s love was and what he was up to. He shook his head and couldn’t help but think, ‘what a price one pays when they fall in love with a ranger, or has one for a daughter,’ then he continued on his rounds, his heart melancholy as he dwelt on his own lost love and the complications in his own past.
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Post by Brandwyn on Jul 16, 2011 13:32:28 GMT -5
The next several days found Brandwyn in the same tired routine. She tried to cheer up and concentrate on her studies, but she couldn’t seem to shake her depression. She found herself taking long rides on Asfala trying to outrun her own thoughts without much success.
Only a few days before her mentor was due to return from his latest mission, Brandwyn found herself saddling Asfala early in the morning before the sun was fully up. Mist was rising from the slightly warmer ground in the cold, crisp morning air. There was a hint of snow on the air and she eyed the gray clouds building over the castle turrets. So far this winter Meric had accumulated hardly any snow at all, but it being mid-winter they were overdue for a storm. All reason told her that it was unwise to venture very far afield this day, but then reason seemed to have deserted her in favor of emotion. She was restless and agitated and simply had to get away from the Scout School and her instructors who had not given her a day of rest since the Winter Revel and precious few all the way back to the Harvest Faire in fear that she would do something drastic. Today she was going out before they found her and she had no intention of coming back before nightfall.
Her saddlebags were loaded with food, the canteen filled with a light cherry wine and she had rolled up two thick wool blankets behind her saddle in case the snow started while she was out. Her horseman’s bow was slung over her shoulder and the two full quivers hung from the saddle horn. On her hip was the saber that she now wielded with full confidence and some fairly decent skill after hours of practice. Several knives were displayed and concealed on her person and even on her saddle. She wore her trademark riding habit that was split front and back so she could ride astride instead of side saddle. Her leggings were thick wool and her tall boots well oiled as was her wool-lined leather cloak in the royal blue of the Scout’s colors. Her navy blue tunic was made of thick leather which was worn over a silk blouse with puffy sleeves. On her head was the traditional black felt hat with one side turned up and a plume of large bird feathers in bright colors tucked into the brim. With her hair braided tight to the back of her head it would be difficult to tell she was a girl from a distance except that her riding skirt would give it away. There were certain things that her mother had burned into her head, however, and one of them was that first and foremost, she was expected to look like a Lady. It seemed she could not escape that conditioning no matter how hard she tried.
She was tightening Asfala’s girth when there was a commotion at the castle gates. They were not yet open for the day’s business but it seemed someone outside was demanding entry. One of the guards on the battlements above was sipping his coffee and pointedly ignoring the calls from outside which were growing ever more urgent. Brandwyn could hear fear in the voice of the man outside. “For Heaven’s sake, Sir, open that gate for the poor man!” Brandwyn called crossly as she swung up into the saddle. “Besides I am ready to go out so you might as well open up anyway.” The soldier wasn’t entitled to be called ‘Sir’ but Brandwyn used it deliberately in the hopes of stimulating his ego so he would open the gate.
“I ain’t done with my coffee yet, Missy.” The guard said sullenly. “You both’ll just have to sit tight and cool your pretty little britches.” He eyed her up and down. “Why don’t you just forget about your little ride today on that wild mare of yours, I can give you a much wilder one.” He grabbed his crotch and Brandwyn’s eyes narrowed in anger as he raised the tin mug to his lips. There was a twang and a ‘tink’ sound and the cup was impaled upon the stone bulwark behind him. He stood there looking at it dumbly while the hot coffee poured out of the holes on both sides and ran down the stone wall.
“The next one goes in your arm, you buffoon, if you don’t open that gate now, and don’t think I don’t know who your superior officer is. Now why don’t you just do your job and stop wasting my time?” Brandwyn glared at the man, her bow resting easily across her lap, an arrow knocked on the string. She was rather pleased with herself for not only stringing and drawing her bow in about two seconds, but also in hitting the cup exactly as intended. She was rather surprised that her arrow had enough power behind it to actually stick into the mortar between the stones on the inside of the outer wall above the castle gate.
The soldier, with his mouth hanging open, looked from the pretty noble girl he’d taken for just another coddled, snotty rich brat to the arrow that had passed literally between his fingers without touching him. He was impressed and not just a little bit awed by her skill. The look on her face was one he was used to, however, one that he saw on most adult nobleman’s faces when they ordered the masses around. He was sure she wasn’t bluffing and he hurried to do her bidding. Moving to the lever that lowered the counterweight, he raised the portcullis as he called down into the gatehouse below him and ordered the man below to crank the gate open.
Brandwyn urged Asfala forward as the man outside stumbled in through the gate. As she passed he reached for her reins to stop her and she saw his front was covered in blood. “Lady, don’t go out there!”
“What has happened?” Brandwyn asked, pulling Asfala up. “Are you hurt?”
“Our hamlet was attacked last night, Lady. Nearly everyone is dead or wounded. Even the children…” his voice broke as he struggled to keep from sobbing. He clutched one bloody hand to his stomach and Brandwyn saw fresh blood soaking through his tunic.
She turned to the guard on the gate, “You there – go fetch Sir Karl right now and one of you, go get the Baron’s personal physician. Tell him Lady Brandwyn needs him urgently and he will come straight away. Hurry!” She swung down off Asfala and grabbed her pouch full of medical supplies from the saddle horn and then helped ease the man to the ground. “Which hamlet and who did it?” Brandwyn asked him as she peeled back his tunic to reveal a very ragged, nasty knife wound. It appeared that the blade used had had a serrated edge to it that ripped the skin savagely. It was a crude weapon that was often favored by the less skilled, noted Brandwyn, remembering one of her lessons.
“Durmwood, My Lady.” The man gasped as she probed the wound. “You know of it, I have seen you there before.” He grabbed her hand, forcing her to look him in the eye for a moment. “They were devils, My Lady, from the very fires of hell!” he said with voice husky with fear. “Do not go out there.”
Brandwyn gently removed his fingers from her wrist and looked back at the wound. “I know of Durmwood and it is not far from here.” She said calmly while pouring some of her wine over the wound. She gently began picking dirt and grass from the wound. “This must be cleaned well, or you shall catch a fever and die.” She looked him in the eye again, “what did these ‘devils’ look like?”
“They were half man and half beast and their eyes glowed like the fiery depths from which they came. They screeched like banshees and death did not touch them.” He shuddered and closed his eyes. “I swear I stabbed one with my pitchfork and he just laughed at me, tossed my fork aside and then stabbed me.” Then he broke down sobbing as Brandwyn heard footsteps approaching from the main door of the castle. “My son... My wife… dead!”
Brandwyn was relentless though, she needed information, “I am sorry, so very sorry for your loss but I must ask just one more question and then you can rest.” At his nod she continued, “How many of them were there?”
“I- I am not sure,” he sobbed, wiping his face with his bloody hand. “I think maybe a dozen or so. It was hard to tell. They were so fast; the buildings were burned after they took our food.”
Brandwyn patted him on the shoulder, “good man, now. You rest, I will find out who they were and they will be brought to justice.” Brandwyn assured him as the doctor strode up and knelt across from her as Sir Karl stepped up right behind him. She stood up, looking at Tory’s father with wide eyes. Something or someone had definitely attacked this man, but she could not believe devils from hell were running around the countryside stealing food and slicing people up with jagged daggers. Stowing her medical kit back on her saddle, since the doctor had brought his own much more extensive one, she said to Karl, “I am going to investigate. You might want to send some men to follow as soon as possible.”
Karl laid a hand on her arm to forestall her mounting as Asfala pranced nervously away from the injured man and the smell of blood. “Tell me what he said first and you should not go anywhere by yourself.”
“I can take care of myself and I have to get out of here.” Brandwyn countered as she wiped her hands off on a damp rag a servant handed to her. “He is from Durmwood, just a few hours hard ride to the south of here.” Then she recounted everything the man had said. “There is not a lot of information there, but I hardly think they are really devils from hell.” She said softly to Sir Karl and then swung up into the saddle and gathered the reins. “I suggest you keep the castle gates closed and put out a warning at the city gates as well.”
“Brandwyn, don’t go out there alone. Give me a half an hour and I will have a patrol go with you.” Karl implored. “Master Ian won’t forgive me if something happens to you while he is gone.”
Brandwyn considered his words for a moment, but one look at the man lying in the dirt who was now crying uncontrollably made up her mind. She shook her head, “send them out after me, but I am ready now. I will scout out ahead and report to them when they catch up with me. It may be that I will find some tracks from these ‘devils’ and be able to follow them back to their lair.”
“So you are thinking they are bandits?” Karl asked her. “What about them being half beasts?”
Brandwyn shrugged. “I don’t know, he is distraught though, I know he saw something, but it may be that his imagination is affecting his memory. Either way there should be some evidence they have left behind.” Brandwyn nudged Asfala toward the still open castle gate. “You better send some healers and grave diggers along behind those men of yours. If what he said is true, there are going to be a lot of bodies to bury. There were about 30 people in that hamlet, mostly women and children.” She said grimly and then cantered out the gate, her bow once more held across her lap with an arrow ready in her left hand.
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Post by Brandwyn on Jul 26, 2011 15:14:39 GMT -5
Brandwyn alternated between a walk, fast trot and a slow canter for the next several hours so she wouldn’t overtax Asfala. As they progressed through the rolling hills, the farms were broken up with sections of woods or prairie scrub brush and grew farther apart the farther away from Meric she travelled. There were very few people on the road and she wondered if it was her imagination or if there really was a pall of fear over the land.
Asfala was nervous and grew more so as they finally neared the hamlet of Durmwood and they both caught snatches of the smell of burnt timber drifting here and there along the road. Brandwyn stopped Asfala and got her to stand perfectly still for all of two minutes while she listened to the forest around her.
There were no sounds. No animals stirring, no rustling in the grass, no birds chirping, nothing but the wind rustling through the straggly tree branches overhead. She eased Asfala forward, the arrow now knocked on her string and her eyes dancing back and forth, far ahead and into the trees before she passed under them.
The trees opened up into a huge cleared area where harvested fields lay nestled in the gently sloping landscape. There were only a couple of fields that she could see that looked like the crops were still growing, everything else had been picked and was being prepped for the upcoming winter. She figured those fields must be planted with winter wheat for nothing else would grow in the dead of winter as far as she knew, at least not here in Meric.
Smoke curled up from the walled hamlet a mile farther up the road. The low stone walls had done nothing to keep the marauders out. Asfala snorted as another gust of wind blew the smoke in their direction. Brandwyn looked at the sky and saw thick gray clouds completely blocking the lowering sun to the south. The wind smelled strongly of snow and was blowing much harder now that she was out of the shelter of the trees. Brandwyn pulled her heavy cloak closer around her.
“At least we should be able to see them coming, Asfala, out here in these fields.” She said softly, her voice sounding flat as the wind snatched it away. Asfala flicked her ear back and tossed her head, trying once again to turn around and run back to Meric. “Easy girl, you know we have to go on. You just keep that nose pointed upwind and let me know if something alive is out there.”
She urged Asfala back into a trot and scanned the sides of the trail for prints. Throughout her journey she had made note of the blood trail left by the man who had most likely walked most of the night to bring them word of the devastation. The spots of blood soaking into the ground were nearly impossible to pick out now and were very far apart here where he began his journey. She found it amazing he had made it with the wounds he had suffered.
As they drew closer to the village with its low, stacked stone walls and stone houses, Asfala fought Brandwyn more and more to return back the way they had come. Ruthlessly Brandwyn maintained control and forced the horse to enter the still smoldering village.
The smell was unbearable and Brandwyn gagged, nearly retching before she could get her kerchief tied over her nose. It did little to ward off the stench of burned bodies emanating from all over the village. The site of the first few corpses did her in, however, and she leaned over to the side and heaved several times until she could regain control. Asfala danced sideways around in a circle and nearly wrenched the reins from Brandwyn’s hands in an effort to break free. Brandwyn turned her back around and pushed her forward with her heels, searching the village for signs of life. She found it finally in the one large building that was still mostly standing. The stone chapel in the center of the town had been more sturdily built and was where many of the villagers turned for refuge during the attack. She heard crying behind its closed doors as she circled it, making note that more than half the roof was burned and caved in, but otherwise it seemed to be okay.
“Open up! Open up in the name of the Baron of Meric!” Brandwyn called out, her voice hoarse and shaky. She cleared her throat and said more clearly, “I am Lady Brandwyn from Meric and I am here to help you. Open the doors!”
There was murmuring inside and finally one side of the main doors opened and a priest poked his head out. He saw her and a look of relief crossed his face as he looked hopefully around for her entourage. Seeing none, he grew fearful again, “Where are your men, Lady?”
Brandwyn wanted to dismount, but knew Asfala wouldn’t stand still long enough to get back on her if she did so. “They will be along in a couple of hours I am sure.” She said dismissively. “How many of you have survived?”
The man looked around him at the devastation and tears came to his eyes. “Twelve, My Lady, plus Jaret if he still lives,” the priest answered. “He must have made it to Meric, since you are here, but why send a Lady? Meaning no disrespect of course!” he added hastily, opening the door and descending the stone stairs to get a better look at her.
“I was on my way out and met him at the gates,” she answered, even though she didn’t have to. “He was still alive when I left him and the Baron’s physician was tending him. If anyone can save him, it is that man.” Brandwyn moved Asfala so she could see inside the church. The elderly and the very young were clutching each other, a few brave ones peeking out the door at her. “Someone is on the way to help with your wounded. I would recommend that you prepare yourselves for bad weather or start walking back to Meric, or to the nearest Hamlet. Isn’t Greenthorn Hamlet closer?” she asked the priest.
“It is, My Lady, but those villagers came to us four nights ago when their village was destroyed by the Devils.” He shook his head and rubbed his eyes. “We laughed at them, but now we know better…now we know…” his voice trailed off and someone in the church sobbed. “We cannot leave here now, Lady, or we will be on the road after dark and they will surely kill us all!”
Brandwyn looked at the sky. It was just about high noon as far as she could tell in the gray overcast sky. It had taken her the better part of six hours on a horse to get here. He was right about them not being able to leave now. They would never make Meric by nightfall or before the brewing blizzard hit. Already there were random snowflakes drifting by. “You are right, at least about dark. Have you made shelter within the church? Can you get out of the snow?” He nodded., but the look in his eyes suggested otherwise. "More or less," he replied, looking at his feet. "We thought the church to be safest since it is on hallowed ground. Surely the devils cannot enter it."
"I doubt they will return." She didn't add, 'since there is nothing left for them to take,' but she didn't need to. The priest understood. She surveyed the village and noticed some of the small storage buildings appeared to be intact. “Hold on a moment.” She said and then cantered Asfala to the nearest one on the outskirts of the village on the north side. The door was half off its hinges, but it had not been burned. It was small, but that would make it easier to heat. She rode back to the church and now several people were standing outside, most of them showing signs of the ordeal they had been through.
“Move into those storage sheds and be sure to take as much firewood as you can with you. It will likely be just a couple of hours before Sir Karl’s men arrive and probably late tonight or possibly tomorrow before the real help gets here.” She eyed the clouds again, “If they don’t get turned back from that storm. You might be on your own until it blows over.”
“We have precious little food, Lady, they took nearly everything and all the livestock.” One of the elders said. “How are we supposed to survive if it blows for days?”
“You can survive for about two weeks without food if you need to, and Meric is only a day’s walk away. There is food and shelter there. This storm shouldn’t last that long, we are in the south and though it is in the middle of winter, it has been mild so far this year. I suspect it is going to change from snow to ice to rain by mid-day tomorrow if it is anything like last year. Sir Karl’s men will be here and they will help you get back to Meric tomorrow or the next day at the latest.” She said confidently and the man nodded and handed him a loaf of dark bread and her two wheels of cheese. She still had plenty of food for herself for a couple of days and these people hadn't had anything to eat today. Hopefully it would be enough for all of them for one meal.
“Now, how many were they, what did they look like and which way did they go?” She asked no one in particular.
After several minutes of the same general description that Jaret had given her, she finally determined that they had attacked from the west and had returned that way. If Greenthorn had been hit too, that would mean the group was heading northeast, straight toward Meric, yet she had not seen any sign of them on her way here.
She rode around the perimeter of the village, studying the ground for many long minutes, moving back and forth over the west and north sides looking for tracks. Slowly she widened her search pattern until she crossed the trail she was looking for. The footprints were human, some barefoot and some with boots. She could pick out eight distinct patterns after several minutes of searching, in spite of Asfala dancing around destroying some of the prints. She rode back to the church where the people were exploring the homes and recovering items that had not gotten destroyed by the fire.
“Father, tell Sir Karl’s men that the ‘devils’ appear to be men wearing shoes and they have left tracks like real people for us to follow over on the western edge of the village.” She said loudly so that most would hear her. “I do not believe devils would leave booted footprints behind, do you?” She asked him and he squirmed under her gaze.
“Perhaps not.” He conceded, “But they were beasts from the waste up. I clearly saw a man body and a fox’s face. His back was all furry and he had a tail!” the priest protested.
“That is a mystery, but please convey my message word-for-word.” She pressed him and made him memorize it. “Tell him also that I am following them before the storm obliterates the tracks. Maybe I can find out where they are holed up.”
“Yes My Lady, God Bless you, child and may he keep you safe!” The priest blessed her and Brandwyn kissed his signet ring, offering up her own silent prayer for her safety.
“Thank you. Now go help your people prepare for this storm, the snowflakes grow thicker.” Brandwyn turned Asfala and cantered back to the tracks and took up her place parallel to them, travelling at a fast road trot that jarred every bone in her body. It was not comfortable, but at this pace she could keep the tracks in site and Asfala could travel all night if she needed to. She had to hurry and find their lair before it got dark or before the snow covered their tracks, otherwise they were going to be all the harder to catch and stop.
She kept her bow strung and an arrow in her hand, but pulled the cloak tight around her as the wind picked up and the fluffy snowflakes pelted her in the face. If they wanted to ambush her now, she thought they might succeed. Her only hope would be that Asfala would sense them first before they got close enough to do any damage to her. In vain, she strained her eyes through the thickening snow to see the terrain around her to keep from being attacked and all the time she had to keep the tracks in site. The tracks were being covered by snow and the shadows were growing longer as the clouds thickened and the sun sunk down toward the horizon. The marauders had a good 16 hours head start on her and from their tracks it looked like they were tavelling fast. Still, she figured she was gaining ground with Asfala's mile eating, bone pounding trot.
After being in the saddle the entire day, she felt her muscles screaming in agony. She had grown soft again since Gallica, but the current situation brought back memories of that terror filled run from the Aslavian army that was close on their heels. She wished with all her hear that Ian and Tandar were with her now.
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Post by Brandwyn on Aug 1, 2011 9:53:11 GMT -5
Night was falling and the wind was wet and cold. The snow was falling fairly heavily now and Brandwyn could barely make out the prints of the village’s attackers. The ground here was growing rocky and occasionally she had to cross deep ditches that sliced through the red clay as a result of the heavy sudden downpours that were typical in Meric fief. The rain came down so fast at times and with such ferocity that four foot ditches could develop in a matter of hours.
Brandwyn nearly missed the signs of the raider’s prints turning up one of these larger ditches in the failing light. She backtracked and found where they turned and debated following in the narrow wash that was about six feet deep. Obviously if the snow turned to rain she would be in danger of getting caught in a flash flood if she stayed in that gully. From above, however she would not be able to see their tracks. If they climbed out on the far side she would miss them. After several minutes of silently weighing the pros and cons she decided to follow the ditch along the top on the opposite side, figuring that if they climbed out, they would likely keep going in the westerly direction.
She backed up Asfala and cantered her toward the deep ditch that was only about five feet across at this point. The soil on each side was loose, however and Brandwyn wouldn’t have jumped it if the situation had been different. Asfala, ever the horse to love jumping, didn’t hesitate for a moment. She cantered to the edge, gathered her hind end and took a mighty leap into the air. Brandwyn leaned forward on the ascent and then tucked her butt down into the saddle as Asfala landed on the far side with a slight jolt. The ground under her hind feet started to give way and Brandwyn leaned forward again on Asfala’s forelegs and urged her to run. The fleet footed Arab leapt forward and charged clear of the soft ground, but not without a huge chunk of clay cracking off the bank and tumbling into the ditch. They’d definitely left signs of their passing that anyone should be able to follow.
She slowed Asfala and turned her back to ride along the ridge of the ditch which grew wider and deeper as they continued. It then turned from its south-western track to head nearly due south. Brandwyn was walking Asfala now with the biting wind at their backs. The snowflakes were obliterating anything over ten feet away and she bent over the saddle peering at the ground looking for tracks and making sure Asfala didn’t step over the edge and tumble into the gully.
Suddenly Asfala stopped and tossed her head, sniffing the air. Brandwyn smelled the smoke a moment later. This time it smelled like a campfire with roasting meat. It was coming from behind them. Somehow she passed the brigands without seeing them. She turned Asfala and followed the scent back to the edge of the gully. Through the swirling snow she thought she saw a flicker of a fire very far away and a good 20 feet lower than her present position. ‘Surely the gully isn’t that deep or wide,’ she thought as she scanned the banks on this side. A sudden flash of lightening revealed that she was at the convergence of two massive gullies. Where they joined they formed a veritable canyon that she guessed was probably 50 feet across and 15 to 20 feet deep. The sides were shear and cut out of mostly soft clay and sandstone. In the center of the widest part it appeared there were a group of creatures camping and enjoying the spoils of their latest raid.
She listened and could hear snatches of conversation and the occasional burst of laughter. They sounded like typical men. She couldn’t see them however for the snow was coming down even heavier now. She backed Asfala away from the edge and took shelter under a copse of scraggly evergreen trees that struggled to grow in the heavy soil. She considered her options as she dismounted and gave Asfala some grain and some water from her own canteen.
She wondered if Karl’s men had followed her or if they had stayed at the village to help them and ride out the storm. She could head back, now that she had found what she believed to be the raiders and tell Karl’s men where they were. It was dark now though and in the storm she could easily get lost or stumble into the gully. She thought they were fools for camping in the bottom of the wash in this weather for every instinct told her this was going to turn into an ice event right before dawn and then later tomorrow it would likely become rain. Sure, they were sheltered from the wind down there, but they were also sitting ducks to get washed away if the weather turned suddenly.
She also didn’t know if it was the party that had raided the village. Remembering the villager’s descriptions she doubted supernatural beings from hell were going to sit around a campfire swapping stories during the middle of a freak blizzard. But what were they if they had man legs and animal heads? She knew of no such creatures in any of the lore or histories proving any such creatures actually existed anywhere in the world, much less in Araluen. If there were such creatures, there would be some information on them, no matter how isolated they had been. She knew she had to make sure these were the bandits responsible for the destruction of the village and she wanted to have a more realistic report of what they really were to take back to Karl and his men.
She eyed her supplies and wondered if she still had that small coil of rope in the bottom of her pack. She pulled her pack off and unrolled the two extra blankets from behind the saddle and spread one of them on the ground under the shelter of the tree branches. The trees were just thick enough here to stop the snow from hitting the ground, but it was a tight squeeze to get Asfala into the thicket. She began to unload everything in her pack and set it on the blanket next to her. Asfala half watched her as she chased the last of her grain around the feedback hanging around her nose from her ears.
Brandwyn was glad she had packed a good deal of food. Even though she had left the bread and cheese with the villagers, she had plenty of food for a couple of days if she rationed it out. Finally she reached the bottom of her pack and shook it out. A very light-weight coil of rope fell into her lap. The rope was probably only about 30 feet long and was very thin diameter. She had it more for tying up criminals or for a high-line to tether the horses than for use in climbing, but she figured it would support her weight. She set it aside and then repacked her saddlebags, leaving out a bit of food for her supper.
When she finished eating she made sure all of her packs were secure and attached them to the saddle and then pulled Asfala’s saddle off and rubbed her down and then covered her with a blanket, tying it around the horse’s middle to keep it in place. She left the saddle resting on a low branch with her light rain poncho draped over it. She hoped the poncho would stay put to protect it, but it was already fluttering in the wind as she tried to tuck it in around the edges of the saddle.
She put the rope halter on Asfala and loosely tied the lead to one of the tree branches. Asfala could jerk on it and get away if she really wanted or needed to, but it was enough of a deterrent that the tired horse would like stay put while Brandwyn went scouting around the campfire below.
Next she tied the rope around the trunk of the tree nearest to the edge of the gully and threw the other end over the side. It appeared to be just long enough to reach the bottom. She gathered up her weapons, unstringing her bow and slipping it into the loop on her quiver that was slung over her back. With her cloak clasped around her neck and the other blanket that was a very dark forest green draped over her shoulder she slowly descended down the slippery canyon wall and into darkness.
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Post by Brandwyn on Aug 1, 2011 10:28:17 GMT -5
Karl Waterton, Master-at-Arms of Meric Castle was very disturbed at the news brought by the injured villager. Before speaking with the man, he dispatched 6 soldiers to ride immediately to Durmwood and assess the situation. He also sent six men to the village to the east where his daughter's mother lived at the foot of Coltraine's Manor to warn them and check on the status of that village. He then notified the Chatelaine to get a group of wagons with supplies and people to help tend wounded and dig graves to be ready to depart at noon. He eyed the weather as he crossed the courtyard on his way to talk to the villager.
He got no more information from the man than Brandwyn had and was run off by the physician. His next stop was the Baron to report what had happened and then to get a bite to eat. The Baron and the Battlemaster did not take the news well. This was the third village that they knew about that had been attacked and set on fire in the last two weeks. Reports from nearby fiefs indicated that there had been mysterious attacks there as well over the last few months. The three of them formulated a plan for the defense of Meric castle and a detail of men to ride out and hunt these marauders down.
“I am going with your men.” Sir Karl announced to the Battlemaster. Both he and the Baron protested. He’d heard their protests before. He would be in no shape to fight when they caught up to him, his disability would slow the men down. He knew they were right, but he didn’t care. “Lady Brandwyn is out there tracking these creatures, whatever they may be. She is alone.” Karl said quietly, staring the Baron in the eye. “I promised her father when he was dying and Master Ian before he left that I would look after her. I can’t sit here safe in the castle while she is in danger. I am going out there and I am going to bring her back here alive and in one piece.” He wasn’t asking permission, he was stating a fact.
The Baron stared at him for a moment and when the Battlemaster started to protest, he held up his hand and nodded to Karl. “Very well, do what you must,” he said. “You both had better get moving if you hope to catch these creatures from hell.”
Karl nodded and headed for the door. He heard the Battlemaster raising protests behind him as he shut the door but he didn’t care about that either. The Baron had given his permission, so he wouldn’t be going out there against the will of the lord he’d sworn to obey. He had planned to do just that, but fortunately the Baron must of have sensed that and given his approval so Karl wasn’t forced to defy him or break his oath.
Quickly he gathered provisions from the kitchen and wolfed down some meat rolls as he walked to the stables. His old warhorse, Dodger nickered at him from his paddock and Karl stopped to give him an apple and a pat on the nose. “I wish I could take you, Old Friend, but in this weather and with the speed I am going to have to travel, I just don’t know if you could survive it.” He rubbed Dodger’s neck and then kissed him on the side of his nose. “I know exactly how you feel, buddy, but Brandwyn’s life might be at stake here and so I am going to take that fine colt you sired and see what he is made of. He doesn’t have your experience or wisdom, or even training yet, but he has your heart and I think that is going to come in handy.” Karl patted the old black warhorse one last time and then strode into the barn to saddle Dodger’s colt, Sidewinder.
Sidewinder was four now and was still filling out, though he probably had maxed out in height at 17.2 hands tall. He was all black, like his sire, except for one white stocking on his left hind foot and a narrow white blaze that twisted back and forth down his nose thus giving him his name. Karl had been working with the Horsemaster with training Sidewinder in the hopes of fetching a great price for him next year at the Horse Expo over in Heatherwood Downs. He had spent so much time with the colt, however, he was having second thoughts about selling him. Sidewinder was becoming as good a friend as old Dodger and Karl even caught himself calling the colt ‘Dodger’ now and again.
He saddled Sidewinder and led him out into the courtyard where the Battlemaster was organizing his troupe and the rescue party was assembling. Thirty warriors, a quarter of the Castle’s garrison were shortly equipped and mounted and formed up in ranks. Karl positioned Sidewinder at the head of the column next to the young lieutenant that was in command. At the call of “forward!” they all moved out, breaking into a canter before they thundered under the portcullis and out into the surrounding city. At a steady pace it would take them at least six hours to reach Durmwood. Karl shifted in the saddle to ease the strain on his damaged hip and leg. It was going to be an agonizing day, but he just set his mouth into a grimace and determined he would keep going no matter what. Brandwyn was out there alone and she was going to need his help. He had no choice but to keep going until he found her.
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Post by Brandwyn on Aug 6, 2011 13:35:42 GMT -5
Brandwyn reached the bottom of the ravine and landed lightly a cloud of dust that swirled around her head mixing with the snow. She closed her eyes for a moment until it subsided and listened to the noises around her. She couldn’t hear much over the howling of the wind. She’d been wrong about it being sheltered down here. It seemed the wind was moving faster through the ravine than it was on the surface. She let go of the rope, making a mental note of its location on the soft dirt of the ravine wall and then draped the dark blanket over her head and shoulders. She picked up her bow and strung it and knocked an arrow and advanced stealthily down the small canyon toward the faint noises of the campsite ahead.
This ravine teed into a larger and deeper ravine that seemed to run northwest to southeast as was typical of most of the ditches in this area because they followed the general slope of the land. The soil was clay interspersed with rocks and covered with a layer of rich topsoil in most places. At the bottom of the ravine, however, it was sandstone and clay and loose rocks dotted the floor. In the dark and swirling snowflakes they were hard to pick out and Brandwyn stumbled repeatedly as she tried to make her way quietly up the canyon. At one point she placed her foot down on a large rock and it rolled under her and she fell sidelong against the ravine wall. Dirt showered down on her and she froze, hoping the wall wouldn’t come crashing down on top of her. She tried to stand up and pain shot up her left ankle and she had to bite her lip to keep from crying out. She rubbed it for a few minutes, realizing she had twisted it pretty badly and it was beginning to swell.
“Lovely,” she whispered in exasperation. The last thing she needed was a sprained ankle. Gritting her teeth she got back to her feet and continued the last few feet to where an outcropping of rocks blocked her view of the campsite just some 20 feet away now. She huddled behind a large boulder and peeked around it at the figures lounging around the campfire.
The fire itself was a small fire and probably wasn’t generating a great deal of heat. The snow threatened to douse it and the pitiful flames spitted and sputtered trying to find purchase in the damp wood. There was far more smoke radiating from the fire than anything else. There were still a couple pieces of meat roasting over the fire but Brandwyn couldn’t determine what they were from. She suspected sheep from the village, however, or possibly pork. Too late she realized she was upwind and couldn’t smell the campers, but that they would be able to smell her.
They were settling down now to sleep, some of them rolled up in blankets and nothing more than mounds in the darkness. Lightening flashed again and Brandwyn got a clear look at two of the creatures who were talking quietly and tending the fire. One had the upper body of a fox and the other a wolf. They were two creatures that were unlikely to ‘hang out’ together. She was amazed to see the description the villagers gave her was accurate. They had two legs, not four, but she could not tell if their fur covered their legs too for they were wearing heavy breeches and boots. They had on tunics with long sleeves that covered their arms and torsos but fur poked out around their necks. She couldn’t see their backside, but thought she saw the tip of a wolf tail on the ground under the wolf-man’s leg. The firelight was reflecting off the fox’s eyes and they seemed to glow red in the darkness. She was amazed to discover that the villagers were right about them looking like half men and half beasts. Yet there was something not quite right and she couldn’t figure it out.
Brandwyn took a step around the boulder, placing the weight on her injured ankle with care as she tried to get a closer look.
“Well what do we have here?” a deep voice growled in her ear from behind and she felt a strong arm wrap around her chest, pinning her left arm to her side making her bow useless. Brandwyn was so startled she shrieked in surprise and then tried to elbow the beast in the gut. She heard a grunt and then a chuckle as the arm tightened, squeezing the air out of her lungs. Her bow clattered to the ground as her arm went numb under the pressure. She lifted her good foot, clenching her teeth against the pain on her sprained ankle and rammed her right foot down on the instep of the creature holding her. He let out a howl and loosened his grip enough that she slipped out of his grasp. She dodged around him and than with a running limp back toward the rope and Asfala. If she could make the horse, she could likely get away.
Her ankle threatened to buckle with every step and she was almost hopping on one leg as she fled toward the rope. She heard grunting noises behind her and then felt hot breath on her neck. She turned to look and saw a large fist-sized rock aiming for her head. Instinctively she ducked and threw her right arm up to ward it off. The rock crashed into her forearm with such force that it knocked her to her knees and pain exploded up and down her arm. Brandwyn screamed and tried to roll, but before she could struggle to her feet, the rock crashed into the side of her head and everything went from a swirling snowy haze to a red mist and then to black as she fell back onto the cold, rocky, snow-covered ground.
___
Slowly her senses returned and Brandwyn wished that she hadn’t woken up. She was upside down. No, scratch that, half of her was upside down. The other half was slung over the back side of a man-bear and her face was slapping into his stomach with each lunging stride he took. She nearly gagged at the smell emanating from him. She lifted her head slightly and could see his furry, clawed bear feet covering the ground at a remarkable rate. Her wrists were tied together and she could see that her right arm was swollen and seemed to be at a rather odd angle. Her fingers on that hand were numb and she couldn’t wriggle them. She suspected her forearm was broken. Her head was throbbing and the pain from her head, her arm and her ankle was debilitating.
She looked around again and it seemed like the sun was setting. How long had she been unconscious? The ravine here was a deep canyon now and her captors ran along the bottom carrying their spoils and seemed to know where they were going. She struggled to see where she was or to get loose of the iron grip around her middle that held her over the beast’s shoulder.
“You stop moving.” The deep voice from the previous night cautioned. At least she hoped it had only been one night. “You ain’t no feather, girl and I am tired of carrying you. Would be a lot easier to just cut you up and eat you now.”
“E-eat me?” Brandwyn said faintly, a sick feeling in her stomach. Would these creatures really eat her? They hadn’t taken any other humans as far as she had seen. They only had the villager’s food and some of the animals like pigs, sheep and chickens. Brandwyn could see them now, hanging from the backs of other beasts as they ran. She struggled harder to get away. There was no way they were going to eat her without a fight.
“I warned ya, just like last time.” The voice said again and before she could react, she was slammed in the head again and everything went black again.
___
This time when she woke up she was lying in a twisted heap on the ground on her right side. Her arms were now tied behind her and her broken right arm was bearing a great deal of her weight. She bit her lip again to keep from moaning. She listened but could only hear the sound of heavy breathing coming from all around her. It seemed her captors were asleep. She opened one eye a slit and saw that no one in her immediate line of vision was looking at her. Carefully she rolled over onto her belly, to take the pressure off her arm. As she did so, a noose around her throat tightened and she nearly choked. She brought her feet up to her butt and it lessoned. She realized that they must have trussed her up with her feet attached to her neck so she couldn’t run away. The ropes were tight and with her right arm as it was, she couldn’t even attempt to loosen the knots.
She raised her head and looked around her and then saw the man-bear sitting on a rock behind her watching her intently. She didn’t like the look in his eye. “You want another dose?” He raised his hand and Brandwyn froze. Slowly she shook her head and he lowered it again. “Then stop moving around.”
Brandwyn studied him, but the pounding in her head made it heard to think. “How?" her voice was scratchy and her mouth completely dry. She realized her stomach was clenched into a tight knot as if it hadn’t had food in days. “How long?” she managed to croak and the bear tilted his head to the side.
“Eh? How long since you became our guest?” he chuckled and she nodded. “Four days I been hauling your rather large and luscious butt around these hills,” he growled. “Tomorrow you run. So you better sleep now.”
Brandwyn lowered her face to the earth and groaned. They were going to make her run with her arm broken and her ankle sprained? She realized she was choking again and raised her head back up and gasped in a breath. The Bear chuckled. “Go to sleep.”
“How?” Brandwyn asked crossly. She couldn’t possibly sleep in this position. “Who or what are you?” She asked him, not caring that it wasn’t the polite thing to do and figuring that he would not answer her.
He stood up and walked around her, studying her with the same hungry look in his eye and then kicked her, rolling her onto her left side this time and Brandwyn screamed in agony as pain seared through her arm. She whimpered as she tried to settle herself into some sort of halfway comfortable position. “I am me,” he grunted and then laughed at her, turning his back on her as he warmed his hands at the meager fire. Her screams had partially roused the camp and several grumbled for him to shut up and one said to torture her in the morning when everyone was awake so they could watch. Brandwyn fought down a rising panic and bit back the sobs that were threatening to overwhelm her. She couldn’t give in to them, no matter what they did. She was tough, she would survive this, but only if she kept her wits about her and found a way to escape.
She laid her head on the dirt and closed her eyes, pretending that she was falling asleep. Eventually she actually did fall asleep in spite of the pain and hunger. She was wondering how she could have possibly been unconscious for four days and then she wondered where Asfala was and if the mare was all right. Her last thoughts as she drifted off to sleep were that Tandar was going to be mad at her for getting herself killed by a bunch of man-beast demons from hell.
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Post by Brandwyn on Aug 6, 2011 15:01:04 GMT -5
The next day was a nightmare of pain, hunger and exhaustion. They kicked her awake before dawn and untied her arms and legs, only to retie her arms in front of her. Then they pulled her roughly to her feet and tightened the noose around her neck so that the slightest tug would choke her. The other end of the rope was tied around the man-bear’s belt and he grinned at her while he fastened it on. “Now, Rabbit, we see you run,” he laughed and the wolf-man chuckled too.
“Water?” Brandwyn managed to croak before they finished picking up their packs and loot. The man-bear looked at her and then an evil glint came into his eyes.
“Drink this.” He held up a leather flask and pulled the stopper out and waved it under her nose.
Brandwyn coughed at the strong smell coming from the flask. She shook her head and clenched her teeth. Whatever was in that thing, it was not water and she could tell from the look on his face that she didn’t want to drink it. He grabbed her chin in his very human looking hand and dug his thumb into the joint of her jaw until he forced her mouth open. Then he poured the foul smelling and worse tasting liquid into her mouth. He clamped her mouth shut and then pinched off her nose forcing her to swallow in order to clear her mouth so she could breathe. After she swallowed he let her go and then stepped back to watch, a look of anticipation on his face.
Brandwyn choked and coughed and tried to throw it back up, but her body wouldn’t obey. She felt the horrible tasting brew burn its way down to her belly and then slowly warm her all over. Then the pain hit her stomach as it suffered multiple spasms and she doubled over in agony. “aaaaaaggghhhh!” she cried out and he laughed at her. “Wha-what is that stuff?” she managed to croak as she slowly straightened back up. The burning sensation was growing more intense but the stomach pain was subsiding. Her breathing became rapid and shallow and she broke out in a sweat. “You poisoned me!”
“Ha! Now why would I do that after carrying you around for days? Stupid girl,” He tugged on the rope around her neck and said, “We go now. Run.”
Brandwyn did not start moving quickly enough and the noose tightened around her throat as he moved away from her. She hobbled forward, the pain shooting up her leg from her ankle and more pain as each step jarred her broken arm. The hideous drink was doing something strange to her but she was becoming too confused to tell what it was doing. With each step her heart pumped stronger and faster and moved the liquid farther into her system and soon it reached her brain. Brandwyn screamed as pain and heat seared through her head and her vision bleared. She couldn’t think clearly. The only thing she could focus on was putting one foot in front of the other so she could keep breathing. She reached out and grabbed the belt in front of her and hung onto it with her left hand, her right arm limp in the bindings, and she ran.
Her mind was buried in nightmares and she couldn’t see the creature in front of her or her own feet. She didn’t hear his chatter with his friends or even her own breathing. The drink he’d given her filled her head with all the things she feared most and she plodded on lost in the nightmares, too drugged to even whimper, let alone scream.
…
They stopped at nightfall and Brandwyn plowed into the man-bear, not even aware of what she was doing. He snarled at her and shoved her and she landed in a heap at his feet and didn’t move. The drug he’d given her that morning had worn off just a little bit less than an hour earlier, but she was so numb with fatigue and pain it might as well have been in her system still. She lay on the ground unmoving and barely breathing.
“I think ya killed the vixen.” She heard the fox’s voice. “Naw, she’s just resting.” The Bear growled and kicked her in the stomach. Brandwyn shrieked and rolled away from him. “See? She’s fine.” The fox and wolf laughed and Brandwyn thought she heard others as well, but her eyes wouldn’t open. She couldn’t move a muscle on her own. “Better tie her to that tree while we go deal with that posse following us.”
“Oh, we lost that posse two days ago, didn’t you hear?” The bear said. “Clint said they lost our trail at the river.” Brandwyn didn’t remember any river. Were they just saying this to make her despair? She didn’t know if Sir Karl’s men would keep following. They had to be out of Meric fief by now after five days, or awfully close, unless they had turned back due north. She wished she could think straight.
She felt rough hands grab her by the hair at the base of her neck and half drag and half carry her. She screamed over and over as her arm bumped the ground and she tried to get her feet under her. She was deposited with her back to a small tree with a trunk about 8 inches in diameter and her hands were tied behind her back around the tree. The noose around her neck tightened as he tied that around the tree as well. She had to keep her head leaning back against the trunk or she would choke. A piece of mostly raw lamb was shoved into her mouth and she struggled to chew it. She desperately wanted some water, but she wasn’t about to ask for it again. Eventually she choked down the meat and it set in her stomach like a piece of lead. She didn’t care, though. It was the first food she’d eaten in five days. Then she felt the clenching grip on her jaw again and she fought with all of her might to keep from opening her mouth. It was no good, however, as once again the terrible liquid was poured into her mouth and she was forced to swallow.
The burning was accompanied by the stomach cramps once again and she writhed and moaned in agony until they subsided. This time the drink was slower acting since she was not pumping blood through her system like she had been that morning. The burning sensation built, growing more intense until she thought she was going to explode in flames. She suppressed a shriek, but couldn’t help the whimpers that escaped as she felt the hazy nightmares begin to take over her senses. Just as she lost awareness of her surroundings, she thought she heard one of the beasts say, “We still can’t catch that damn horse that’s dogging us,” but she wasn’t sure if it was real or in her mind. Then the nightmares consumed her and she never knew if she slept or not, but ether way she got no rest from the torment.
___
The chestnut mare paced the canyon rim on the downwind side, listening to and jumping at the screams of her master. The smells coming from the canyon caused the horse to tremble, but she had been trained to stay with her master and so she had followed the group of marauders, eluding them when they tried to catch her. Her hoof prints along the ridge of the canyon stood out easily in the newly fallen snow until the snow had turned to ice. Now she slipped and had to place her feet carefully to avoid slipping into the canyon. Occasionally her hoof would break through the thick ice and leave a mark on the snow and clay beneath. Asfala didn’t care about her prints, however, she only knew that her master was in the canyon and her training told her to follow, so she was following as closely as she could.
The blanket had fallen off her miles ago and she had managed to rub the annoying halter off on a tree just a little ways back so now she wasn’t stepping on the lead line and jerking her poor ears off with every other step.
Unable to find a way down to the canyon floor, Asfala stopped and watched until the creatures below settled down and stopped moving around. Then she lay down where she was and tucked her nose under her foreleg and tried to rest as she shivered in the cold winter night. She kept one ear trained on the campsite alert to any sign of disturbance.
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Post by Brandwyn on Aug 7, 2011 22:41:20 GMT -5
(OOC: This takes place the day after Brandwyn left Durmwood)
Karl saw a new slide in the wall of the canyon and called the line of soldiers to a halt. He pointed out the tracks they had been following to the lieutenant and they dismounted and took a look. The snow had covered everything and now it was turning to ice so it was hard to follow the trail. Brandwyn had made it easier by tying a ribbon to a tree or a bush along the way for him to find. Now it looked as if she had jumped this ditch across their path and rode on. After a few moments of studying the ground and a short conference, they agreed and remounted and led the troupe over the ditch and followed it and Brandwyn’s tracks and markers on the other side.
A few more hours and the tracks got all jumbled up. Hoof prints churned up the snow here, but the ice that had been falling for the past few hours covered the tracks. One of the men discovered the rope leading from a tree trunk and over to the ravine and down. Karl sorted out the hoof prints and found the human prints underneath. He followed them back to the copse of trees and there found a saddle with packs all snug and dry beneath a rain poncho on one of the lower tree branches. There were obvious signs of a hasty, fireless camp. Karl recognized the saddle as Brandwyn’s.
“Found her saddle,” Karl said as he limped back to the lieutenant carrying the saddle. “Both Brandwyn and her horse are gone though. I will bet she went down there on foot and Asfala got loose. I can’t see any other reason Brandwyn would leave her gear behind. Looks like her weapons are with her.”
“Not all of them, Sir,” one of the men approached carrying a bow and one arrow. “I found this down in the gulch. There were signs of a struggle and it looked like bear and human tracks. They are heading up the gulch to the northwest.”
Karl took the bow and examined it grimly. “It’s hers,” he said in a defeated tone. “It looks like she was captured. You didn’t find…” Karl couldn’t finish the thought. The soldier shook his head. “No blood and no bodies, so I would concur on her being captured. She was dragged to where they had a campfire. Then her tracks disappear, but the whole group of them headed up the gulch.”
Karl slung Brandwyn’s saddle over one of the pack horses, making sure the rain poncho still protected it and strapped it down to the top of the load. He tucked the bow and arrow into his gear on his own saddle and tied it down.
They continued up on the ridge, following Asfala’s tracks and checking every so often to make sure the tracks in the ravine were heading the same way. The following day they came across refugees heading toward Meric castle and later their burned out homesteads from yet another raid by the mob they were following. The refugees slowed them down and the lieutenant was forced to leave 4 men behind to help with the wounded and survivors and escort them to safety.
Karl fretted that it was taking too long, yet he was not going to say anything for he knew the lieutenant was keeping the pace between long periods at a fast walk and short bursts of canter in the hopes of easing some of Karl’s pain. If not for that, they would have moved on at a trot most of the time, but the lieutenant knew Karl wouldn’t last long at that pace. Karl knew he wouldn’t either. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep going before he succumbed to pain and exhaustion. He hadn’t slept much at all since he’d left the castle and he barely ate. He felt it was important for them to find her quickly and with each passing hour his sense of urgency grew. The longer she was captive, the less chance she was still alive and the less chance they would have of finding her.
The fourth day out at sunrise they saw strange white smoke on the horizon in front of them. Karl and the lieutenant wondered if they were gaining on the creatures and might have them at last. They renewed their efforts and by nightfall had made up a great deal of ground. Karl figured they were now only three quarters of the day behind the bandits. Slowly they were gaining on them.
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Post by Brandwyn on Aug 10, 2011 7:07:56 GMT -5
"There it is again!" said a wolf man "After it!"
The shout penetrated the fog in Brandwyn’s mind and she thought that it had been real and not a dream. She opened one eye to take a look, since opening both eyes only gave her double images to sort out.
She saw several of the creatures scramble up the exposed roots of trees to the ravine’s ridge above and thought she heard hoof beats retreating in the distance.
“Asfala?” she tried to call out, but her voice wasn’t even a hoarse croak and her swollen tongue and parched lips wouldn’t move correctly to form the word. Apparently she had managed to spit at least some of the drug out earlier for it seemed to be wearing off slightly. She knew from earlier that day, however that there were periods of lucidity in between great hours of insanity and she seemed to be experiencing one of those now.
Every muscle in her body was screaming in agony and the drug seemed to intensify that pain instead of dull it. Then she realized she was shivering from the cold. The rocky ground beneath her buttocks was covered in ice and snow and she had no cloak or blanket. Her clothing was ripped in several places from when she must have fallen throughout the day and was dragged, judging from the gravel that was embedded into her knees and thighs where most of the damage to her clothing occurred.
She was very afraid that her arm was healing in its unset form and that she would be crippled for life, assuming she had a life beyond the next few days that is. Frost bite felt like it might be setting in on those fingertips of her right hand and she tried to wriggle them to get the blood flowing. Pain, horrible shooting pain seared up her arm from her wrist, but she did manage to move her fingers just a tiny bit. She doubted it was enough to get the blood moving though.
She lay there and shivered and watched her three main tormentors leave the camp and she wondered where they were going and why they were leaving her behind. She also noticed that there were now only three beasts in the camp and two of those seemed to be wounded.
If she were going to get free, this was her best chance so far. She felt the tree and ground around her and then realized she was tied to very thick roots of a very large tree that struggled to grow in the side of the ravine. She felt a rack near her left hand that she could barely touch with her fingertips and so she reached for it, stretching and twisting her body until he noose around her neck caught her breath. At the very limit of her ability to hold her breath, she finally got purchase on the rock and pulled it into her palm and then moved back so the noose loosened and air flooded into her lungs.
She sat there unmoving for several minutes with her eyes half closed, resting and relishing in the fact she could suck in a lungful of air and breath it back out. In that moment, she heard a strange “oink!” noise from somewhere nearby and wondered what it was. She listened for a repeat but the only thing she though she heard was hoof beats going in the opposite direction of the ones earlier. Maybe she was hearing things though, for the guard did not seem to notice anything. He sat down near the fire and leaned against a rock. He wasn’t asleep, but he didn’t appear to be all that alert either. This guard was some kind of animal that looked like an extremely large badger and Brandwyn had never seen anything like it. It was too big for a badger and the teeth in its gaping maw were terrifying. She slowly began to rub the sharp edge of the rock against the rope binding her hands and pondered what she would do about him when she got free. She had no idea how long the others would be gone or how long the drug would let her think a bit more clearly so she increased the speed of sawing on the rope. Every so often she stopped and ran a finger over the spot and could tell it was making some progress, but it was going to take a long time at this rate to saw through that rope. Probably far longer than she had.
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Post by Tandar on Aug 12, 2011 22:16:20 GMT -5
It was good to be back in Meric again, but Tandar wished it were under better circumstances. He had been tracking a group of “demons” for several days after bisecting their trail near the ruins of Durmwood. The creatures were responsible for attacks on multiple villages, leaving only death and destruction in their wake. As far as he could tell, the main force deployed by the fief was behind him, and he was to perform reconnaissance until it arrived. The snow and the icy conditions made the situation less than ideal, but Polaris pushed onward.
“I know you’re tired, boy,” he said quietly to Ruldor. “I am too. Just a little farther, then we’ll take a break.” The intelligent Ranger horse bobbed his head as if in understanding. Tandar continued to ride alongside the prints in the snow, and made a mental note of an interesting fact he picked up. There was a set of human footprints among the animal tracks. He didn’t believe the rumors about the creatures being demons. Rather, he figured they were just a bunch of outlaw raiders wearing disguises. He had to admit though; they were fairly clever seeing as they were smart enough to disguise their feet. Either one of the bandits lost their paws and began creating the human tracks, or they had a prisoner.
Ruldor gave a low whinny, and Polaris looked up from the tracks to see a ravine not far ahead. He and Ruldor were not alone. Dismounting, he retrieved the nose bag with grain from his pack, and while his horse ate contently, the Ranger approached the gorge on foot, beginning to crawl as he neared the edge. He caught his breath in surprise. At the bottom of the ravine was a camp with a few of the demons in it. They were half man, half beast, and quite convincing too. Tandar didn’t know what to believe, but he would give a shiny silver piece to tug on one of the furry tails, just to see if it came loose.
Some kind of disturbance was drawing some of the demons away. While he was curious, he was also an opportunist, and he took the chance to scan the camp for any useful information that he could relay to the men-at-arms. At this hour, it seemed many of the creatures were unaccounted for. He had seen more sets of tracks leading to the camp, but it seemed most were away for the time being. Movement at one end of the camp caught his eye and he fumbled with the clasp on his belt pouch with gloved fingers. Pulling out his spyglass, he peered at the figure bound to the exposed tree roots.
“A hostage,” he murmured to himself. Tandar angled the spyglass up a little to see her face, and his blood ran cold. “No,” he said in a shaky voice. He looked again and cursed. Polaris crawled backward until he was safely out of sight and retreated to his horse. He poured some water for Ruldor. Now was the best time to attempt a rescue. He counted only three demons in the camp, and none of them were actively patrolling. If he struck now, they could be gone by the time the other creatures returned. Opening the bow scabbard attached to the side of the saddle, he pulled out his 60 pound longbow, stringing it quickly. From one of his saddlebags, he produced a neatly coiled rope. Polaris tied one end to the pommel of Ruldor’s saddle and the other around his waist.
The guard with a wolverine head lazily turned to glance at the girl prisoner. His eyes narrowed as he caught the sawing motion of her hand. “Hey!” he shouted as he stood up. “What do you think you’re doing?” The man-beast stormed at her, causing his two wounded comrades to look around in apprehension. “Drop it!” he ordered, and the frightening jaws, a dark void flanked by vicious teeth, drew nearer. Flump! The demon fell to his knees, his paws grasping at his throat. There was a gurgling sound as he slumped forward, face down on the ground. A moment later, he was still, transfixed by an arrow with yellow fletchings. A pair of broadhead arrows fired consecutively from above narrowly missed Brandwyn’s arms as they severed the bonds before burying themselves in the snow. The other two creatures saw what was happening, raised the alarm, and began moving to stop the prisoner.
Polaris rappelled down the steep ravine wall, careful to avoid becoming entangled in the twisted roots. As his boots touched the ground, the Ranger drew his saxe knife and cut through the noose around her neck. “Brandwyn!” he breathed, his voice filled with concern. Tandar opened his canteen and pressed it to her lips. “We need to get out of here.” He embraced the Royal Scout very tightly, mindful of her injured arm. “Hang on,” he told her. Tandar whistled sharply, and, on the ridge atop the ravine, Ruldor took off, pulling the rope, and hoisting Tandar and Brandwyn to safety just as the pair of demons got close. Ruldor dragged them over the lip of the gorge and stopped. Helping her to sit up, Tandar took off his thick, wool Ranger cloak and draped it over her shoulders.
He lifted her chin, angling her lips upward into his to receive the kiss. "I missed you."
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Post by Brandwyn on Aug 14, 2011 14:24:30 GMT -5
Karl, the Lieutenant and their men cantered on into the night, following the ravine. They had decided to press on in the hopes of catching up with the marauders before dawn. It was a gamble if the bandits decided to leave the ravine during the night they would miss the tracks and pass right on by. Karl didn’t think they would do so however, given that they had maintained their course for days now.
Their scout reported that there was a village to the west about an hour’s walk on foot from the ravine farther north. It was likely that if the bandits found that village they would stop and mount an attack on it. Karl was counting on that. It would slow the band down long enough for them to catch up and if they timed it right, they would catch them before they decimated the village. Just in case they were further back than he thought, however, he dispatched four soldiers to ride as fast as they could directly for the village to warn them of the suspected attack. This time the marauders would find the town ready and meet with something of an organized resistance. Hopefully they could hold out until the rest of his men arrived.
The rest of his group pressed on into the night. Karl’s sense of urgency drove them forward at a faster pace than they had been traveling before. His own fatigue and physical limitations overcome by his shear will power and desire to find Brandwyn and bring her home safe.
___
“Hey!” the Wolverine man shouted as he stood up. “What do you think you’re doing?” The man-beast stormed at her, causing his two wounded comrades to look around in apprehension. “Drop it!” he ordered, and the frightening jaws, a dark void flanked by vicious teeth, drew nearer.
Brandwyn looked up and saw her guard coming toward her. She screamed and cowered as much as the noose around her neck would allow. She was trying to make him think she was scared helpless. Inside she seethed with anger and determined if she was going to be forced to drop the rock it would land on the beast’s head, not the ground. She sawed faster at the ropes holding her wrists together, frantic to get free as the beast’s gaping maw drew ever closer.
Flump! The demon fell to his knees, his paws grasping at his throat. There was a gurgling sound as he slumped forward, face down on the ground. A moment later, he was still, transfixed by an arrow with yellow fletchings.
Brandwyn’s mouth dropped open as she stared at the dead creature on the ground next to her. Then she heard a swoosh and felt the bindings on her arms come free. She stared curiously at the arrows, unmoving, trying to figure out why the yellow fletchings were so familiar.
She felt someone next to her and turned to see a figure crouching next to her. The noose around her neck dropped off and she felt a strong arm slip around her and heard “Brandwyn!” he breathed, his voice filled with concern. Tandar opened his canteen and pressed it to her lips. She drank greedily, disappointed when he drew it away too soon. She was so thirsty. The water enabled her to croak out a few words in a husky voice, but the words were garbled because her tongue was swollen. “Tandar? Is that really you?” She whispered, reaching up to touch him to make sure she wasn’t in another drug induced dream. We need to get out of here.” He embraced the Royal Scout very tightly, mindful of her injured arm. “Hang on,” he told her.
She felt him cradle her firmly and they began to rise just as the two wounded man-beasts reached the tree roots. She was pulled up out of the ravine and the grip around her loosened slightly. She felt him help her sit up and then he threw a cloak around her. She tried to look up at the face of her rescuer, but she was still seeing double images. She closed her right eye and squinted at him out of her left. He lifted her chin, angling her lips upward into his to receive the kiss. "I missed you."
Brandwyn thought she must be dreaming, she hadn’t seen Tandar for months, how could he possibly be here, right now, just in time to rescue her? Then his lips touched hers and she reached up with her left hand and cupped his jaw. All the pent up emotion of the last several months exploded within her and tears ran down her cheeks, leaving tracks in the dirt and grime on her cheeks. If this was a dream it was a very good dream and not at all like the nightmares the drug had produced during the day. She savored the kiss and clung to him with her good arm.
Suddenly her air was choked off and she felt a large hand closing around her throat and pulling her away from Tandar. Fury rose up inside her. How dare they interfere with this moment? She fumbled with the neckline of her tunic for a moment until she was able to reach down her front. There was only one weapon they had overlooked when they had searched her and that was the tiny throwing blade that nestled between her breasts. It had slipped down low and it took her a moment to grab it and pull the four inch narrow blade out of its sheath. She was gasping for air and the beast was pulling her back toward the precipice.
Without thinking, Brandwyn plunged the blade into the hand gripping her neck, narrowly missing her own throat as it pierced clean through the beast’s hand. He howled in her ear and let her go. Brandwyn dropped to her left elbow and gave a swift mule kick with both feet right into the beast’s stomach and it tumbled backwards over the edge with a scream. Then she scrambled forward toward Tandar before the other beast could grab her sore ankle.
She heard a ‘thunk’ sound behind her but didn’t turn around to see what fate the man-beast had met as she scrambled toward Ruldor on her knees and one hand. She felt Tandar’s arms around her waist as he lifted her onto Ruldor’s back and jumped up behind her. She leaned forward on Ruldor’s neck so Tandar could shoot if he needed to until he lowered his bow and she felt his arm around her once more.
Leaning back against him as they cantered off into the darkness back the way she had come, she looked up into his handsome face and smiled at him. “You have impeccable timing…once again!” she said softly, thinking back to the last time he had come to her rescue just in the nick of time to prevent one of the Grizzlies from slitting her throat, “and a habit of rescuing dumb damsel’s in distress.” She grinned as much as she was able through her swollen lips and the bruises covering the right side of her head and jaw where the bear-man had repeatedly struck her with a rock to keep her unconscious. She grew serious and said solemnly, “Thank you Tandar, and…I missed you too!” Then she snuggled against him, her exhaustion asserting itself now that she felt safe. She didn’t care what happened next just as long as she could stay right there in his arms.
___
About an hour later Karl’s scout returned at a run and hailed them. The whole party drew to a stop near a ruined homestead. There was little left of the buildings but a few crumbling stone walls and they were overgrown with bushes and vines. It had been a very long time since anyone had called the place home.
“What news?” the Lieutenant asked the scout.
“There is a rider approaching, but it appears as if the horse carries two.” The man panted and chugged a mouthful of water from the canteen Karl handed him. “I think it might be a King’s ranger, but it seems he has his cloaked wrapped around another figure that was not moving.” The man looked at Karl apologetically. “It could be the Lady, but it was hard to tell in the dark.”
The lieutenant gestured to two men, “Ride ahead and guide him back here. You two settle the pack horses here and make camp in those ruins. I want a roaring fire in minutes.” The four soldiers hurried to obey while the rest awaited their orders.
“What do you mean she wasn’t moving?” Karl asked the man. “She isn’t- she can’t be-“
“I doubt he would have her wrapped like that if she were…dead…Sir.” The man said gently. “I think she is unconscious, if it is even her. It could be someone else.”
“Karl, you should stay here and get ready to treat her, if it is her. She is going to need a hot meal and a warm place to sleep, especially if she is injured.” The lieutenant suggested. “I can take my men on ahead. We may not be so very far from those creatures and we could possibly end this hunt tonight.” He was cold, tired and hungry and wanted this over with so he could return to Meric and the pretty lass he’d left behind.
Karl considered the plan and nodded. The lieutenant was right, he would slow them down and he would be a lot more help to Brandwyn here in the camp. Let them handle the bandits. He saluted the lieutenant and said, “Very well, good luck Lieutenant.” As he dismounted near the ruins, he watched the whole troupe take off at a fast canter back to the northwest along the ravine.
He just got the fire going and the two men with him had just finished putting up one of the huge tents that could sleep 10 people and setting the braziers inside to warm them, when three figures cantered up. It was the two soldiers and the ranger with a limp form cradled in front of him. Karl limped over to the ranger, barely noticing him, his eyes on the still, pale figure wrapped in a ranger cloak. “Brandwyn?” he asked and touched her face, she stirred and opened her left eye. “Thank God!” Karl exclaimed and glanced up at the ranger. “Tandar? I haven’t seen you in months, lad, how did you find her?” He asked as he helped Tandar get Brandwyn off Ruldor. Unknowingly he pressed on her broken arm as he held her until Tandar dismounted.
“Aaahhh!” Brandwyn breathed out in pain and opened her eyes. “Karl, good to see you,” she said softly and Karl could barely understand her. “My arm, please…” He realized then he was causing her pain and blushed red and handed her back off to Tandar. With his own shoulder and back injury from many years ago, he was barely able to lift her anyway.
Karl led the way to the pallet he had set up next to the fire. “Put her there for now. She is so cold to the touch!” He saw her lips had a bluish tinge and her face was extremely pale. She was shivering and seemed to be fading in and out of consciousness.
As Tandar placed Brandwyn on the pallet, Brandwyn looked up at him and flinched as he examined her broken arm. “It has to be set.” She said to him. “I know and I would prefer if you do it now. It will hurt less once it’s splinted.” She knew it was going to hurt almost as much as the knife wound in her back had hurt last year, but she didn’t trust anyone else to take care of it. “The bear-man hit me with a rock…I think it is a bit crushed…” she prodded gently and felt the bone move slightly beneath her fingers. She bit her lower lip to keep from crying out. “It could be difficult to set, but I know you can do it.” She said to Tandar, but was determined not to show how painful it was, even when he set the bone.
While he worked, Brandwyn set her teeth together and willed herself not to cry out or pass out. She was distracted by snatches of memory from the previous five days returning to her in a rush. There was something nagging at her mind and she had a hard time bringing it to the surface. Suddenly it came to her.
“That’s what was so wrong with those guys!” She exclaimed suddenly. “Their mouths never moved! Not when they ate or when they spoke, they never moved their jaws!” She wasn’t lucid enough to understand why that was significant, but she knew it was for some reason. Then she remembered some of their conversations in snatches.
“They were angry at the Wargals for leaving them behind to deal with something.” She mused, trying to concentrate on her memories and not on the pain in her arm. “The lead wolf-man tried to talk about it but the fox and bear always shut him up. They were scared of it though, whatever they are fleeing.” She wracked her befuddled brain for more. “They are heading for the mountains in the north, in Picta I think, following the Wargals.” She was silent for a moment and another thought occurred to her. “The big wolf-man appears to be in charge with the bear-man second, but it is the fox-man that is telling them what to do. He directs from the shadows. He’s the smartest of them.”
Karl listened to her random thoughts as he prepared some rabbit soup over the roaring fire and heated up water for tea and coffee. “Is she delirious?” he asked Tandar. “She feels too cold to be running a fever.”
“No,” Brandwyn answered. “They drugged me, but it is wearing off now.” She was finding it easier to speak, but also she was fighting sleep and she was still so cold and thirsty. Her arm was taken care of and now Tandar was examining her head and face. “He hit me with that rock – a lot.” She told him, “I have been seeing double for a while now.” She still had her right eye closed because it was easier to focus on him with just the one eye. “My left ankle is a mess too.” She had twisted it trying to run away and then they had made her run on it for hours and hours. If not for the support of her boot, she would not have been able to stand on it at all, but she was afraid the boot might not come off her swollen foot now. Fortunately it had laces from the top all the way down to the bridge of her foot just at the base of her toes. With any luck he wouldn’t have to cut the boot off her foot.
Karl handed Brandwyn a cup of warm tea, “It isn’t hot yet, but it is fairly warm and you should be able to drink it right up.” Brandwyn grabbed it in her left hand and sipped it experimentally. It tasted like apple tea with cinnamon in it. The warmth spread down to her belly and she began to shiver violently as her body slowly began to warm back up.
As she got warmer, she got sleepier and when the tea was finished she lay back on the pallet and started to drift off to sleep. She struggled back awake for a moment and stared at Tandar, fixing his eyes on her own, “Tandar, promise me you are going to be here tomorrow.” She said urgently, a look of panic in her eyes. “Go and deal with those man-beasts if you must, but you promise me you are coming back when you’re done. You promise?” she grabbed his hand in an iron grip with her good hand and stared at him intently. “I can’t bear it if you leave me again.” She whispered and fought back tears.
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