Untitled

A Pact

Chapter eleven

A Pact

"So you were being serious, you'll come with me?" asked Camellia.

They were sitting around the fire Falven had lit, roasting the monstrous fish they had killed. Braga sat across from Falven, looking pensive, Merry had made the introductions but had been silent since, looking tired. Looking around, Camellia realized that there was something about fighting side by side that made you trust someone more than any conversation ever could. Putting his hand over hers, Falven looked into her eyes,

"I will. Family is what matters, and your father seemed like a surprisingly good human, and we owe it to him."

"I'll come too" Braga rumbled, "good fathers, you shouldn't lose them".

Camellia turned to Merry "alright! I'll come too" he answered to her inquiring glance, "but let me just say fathers are overrated."

"How do you feel about your father Falven?" immediately, Camellia could tell that she made a mistake, for Falven's expression darkened into a grim haunted look.

"I haven't seen him in over twenty years. Liarna and I are.. I mean we were looking for him."

"I'm sorry, what happened?"

"What always happens" he answered bitterly, making it clear he was done talking.

Merry interjected: "What about you Braga? I'm sure you and your parents made a perfect family."

Braga gave a deep guttural laugh. "If you want, I can tell you the story" he said darkly. In deep mysterious tones, Braga began his tale. It went (more or less) like this:

"A howl of pain sounded in the cold dark night, a fifth hunter had just been slain, yet the remaining did not relent from chasing their prey. They urged their mounts forward, riding through the thick snow, they surrounded the two humans yet again. The massive warrior was weary and the beautiful witch weak from the spells already cast. They took them alive.

Mounted torches casted a dim glow on the huts of the village that awaited the hunters return. Shrieks and whistles of delight were made as the crowd saw the woman; her long blond hair being used as a leash to drag her along. They brought them before the chief, as was only right. The gigantic chief stared down out them from upon his throne licking his lips.

"Well I guess I'll go first then."

The buff warrior stepped forward, "you can't have her, she's mine. And I challenge you to a Jarga!"

The chief snorted angerly "you haven't the right".

The warrior looked up at the purple monster, its yellow fangs, its coarse fur and its massive muscular chest, what's the matter? you afraid of a puny little human?"

"Arghh fine! I'll kill you quickly".

"If I win, everything you own is mine yes?" asked the warrior.

"Yes, so when I win, I get your woman" answered the chief with a chuckle.

"Well I assume you want to have some sort of challenge, will you allow me to keep my shield? Let's provide your clan with some entertainment...".

Growls of assent came from crowd. The chief nodded, and the pact was set.

They faced off in a simple arena, rows of seats had been dug from around a fire pit, where the snow had been cleared. A horn was blown, drums boomed, and the chief struck.

The ringing of the first punch could be heard for miles. The chiefs' massive fist smashed into the big shield, sending the warrior flying backwards. Yet the warrior arose to confront the chief. Again, and again the chief rained blows upon the shield, but not even a dent or scratch was visible. The dragon insignia upon it continued to snarl fiercely. The chief tried to grab the shield, but the warrior was too nimble. When the chief was tiring, the warrior made his move. As another great blow was almost upon him, instead of bracing and blocking, he spun just at the right moment. His opponent was carried forward by his own momentum, unbalanced. In a blink of an eye, the warrior finished his spin by swinging the rim his shield into the side of the chiefs' knee, which cracked loudly. The chief fell and the warrior quickly stepped on top of him. The chief grabbed the warrior with both hands, intending to crush him to a pulp. But the warrior was already plunging his shield downwards, its triangular bottom heading straight for the chiefs' throat...

Deathly silence pervaded throughout the pit as the villagers tried to register what had just happened. Blood sprung up as the warrior tugged his shield free. Covered in gore, he yanked one of the chiefs' fangs free and pocketed it. Looking around he said in a loud voice: "well then where's this beast's mate? Also, we'll need his ride."."

Braga finished just as abruptly as he had started, Falven's fire dancing in his eyes. The rest of the group sat quietly as they inferred the rest of the story. "Your mother, why did she go along with it? I mean, he had just killed her husband!" asked Camellia angerly.

"She wouldn't disgrace his memory by breaking his pact" explained Braga solemnly.

"Its barbaric, but she did the right thing" agreed Falvin.

Merry interjected: "that's ridiculous, she should have strung him up.."

Merry then stood up and walked over to Braga, putting his hand upon the half-orc's shoulder he finished: "but I'm glad she didn't because then I never would have met this guy... Braga the Beast! Bane of the Akarna!"

Braga smiled at Merry's declaration and praise, yet it faltered for a minute when Falven gave a cough that sounded suspiciously like "I killed him."

"If you'll excuse me" Merry announced, "I haven't slept since the goblin arena, and we have a big day tomorrow... we leave at first light!"