arin's beginning

Chapter 11 Wildmen

We spent the night talking about the history of the Wild Clans. Tag filled in the gaps in my knowledge about them, since knowing about the politics of the Clans was never really an important part of being a healer's apprentice. Knowing which Warchief held the biggest club didn't make a difference when I was holding in a man's guts or setting a bone in his leg. I knew that the clans didn't like each other, I saw as much when they would sabotage each other during the skirmishes, but I hadn't known that their blood feuds ran so deep that they would go to war over the slightest rumors.

But the most distressing thing I learned was that the Clans had never before tried to change their tactics in war. A horde of screaming bloodthirsty berserkers running at you full speed is a fearsome sight and many soldiers were never the same after the first clash with one of the clans. Tag told me about what he and Ax had seen, machines of war that should have been far too advanced for the Clans to have come up with by themselves, forge fires, and the ringing of blacksmiths hammers. Worst of all were the cages that held not only wolves and bears, which unto themselves weren't new, but the addition of draconids was. Somehow the Clans had captured wyverns and dragons and put them in chains. I could only imagine what they had planned for them.

Tag wanted more information about these developments and changes in how the clans were operating. He left to go scout closer to the camp, while Ax stayed behind to keep an eye on me and Brann.

Brann will need food when she wakes. I will find her some and be back shortly. Do not let your guard down, Arin. Her life is dependent on you. Ax levels his gaze at me, his great eye holds me fast. It feels like every time I look at him I notice new details, like how the olive green of his crossed iris is flecked with some yellow and gold.

"I won't." Tag said not to light a fire. Not since we were camped so close to the clans. I sat facing Brann, listening to the world around me. I always loved when Master Randerick would give me the evening off, I would climb up the wall outside the clinic and get up on the roof. I loved sitting on the slate tiles and listening to the sounds of the city. Merchants calling out and haggling, the dockworkers singing faintly from the bay. Here I can hear the baying of plainsdogs, the shrill chirping of insects, and the wind rustling the grasses.

Something isn't right, the wind isn't blowing the grass. Suddenly the rustling stops and I whirl to my feet. Brann hasn't stirred yet, but out of the grass, a couple of men step forward. They are both dressed in hides and are carrying long, heavy-bladed swords. The one on the right is a short heavyset man with no visible hair anywhere. His companion on the other hand is tall and lean with a beard that fell to below his waist. His face was tanned and weathered like the dockworkers. He clearly spent more time in the wilds than not. He looks over at Baldy and says something while gesturing at Brann. I can't understand what they say but I know it isn't anything good.

Brann! I need you to wake up now! I mentally shout at her. She merely shuffles her legs and tucks her snout under her wing. BRANN!! I scream her name down our bond. My mind flashes back to the clearing at Ridershaven. I will not lose her again.

Baldy is edging around our clearing toward Brann while Beardy steps toward me. I step back, remembering the first time Emric advanced on me like that in training. I whip out my sword and hold it up in front of Beardy. I look over at Baldy and my throat tightens up. His own sword is leveled at my neck. From this close, I can see traces of rust and nicks on the edge of the blade. I swallow hard. Beardy laughs and says something to Baldy who chuckles in response. Both men are stepping closer to me.

Before I can think about how bad an idea it is, I whirl my sword around, grasp it with both hands and knock Baldy's sword away from my neck. I hiss as the tip scores a shallow cut across my skin. Our blades ring out as they collide and Baldy gasps when the sword and his arm swing wide under the impact. I flip my wrists over and continue my swing over his sword guiding it across his belly and up over his head before I pull back and step into a thrust. I feel my sword hesitate for only the briefest moment before it continues its lethal glide. Baldy's face contorts in pain and shock and then I yank the blade free and turn to face Beardy.

Beardy's jaw is practically on the floor, and the only thing I can hear over the rushing in my ears are my own panting breaths. I watch as he shifts his weight, and then suddenly he charges across the clearing roaring as he does. He raises his arms over his head as he runs and throws his weight into an overhead swing. I barely have time to step back as I swing around and up to meet his. My sword is perpendicular, my elbows and knees loose, and then the impact jars my arms. My ears ring with the song of metal on metal. Beardy grunts as his momentum carries him into me and we crash to the ground in a tangle of limbs. Somewhere along the way, my sword falls from my grasp. His foot connects with my jaw and stars sprout as my vision darkens.

I roll away and hear him grumble something that can only be a curse. I hear his sword hit the ground with a thunk. My vision clears as I shake my head. He spits and draws a long curved hunting knife. I reach behind me and draw my own seax as blood runs down my jaw. I fight the urge to touch my face, instead focus on Beardy's eyes trying to gauge his next move. I hear Brann shift next to us. Beardy's eyes dart to her instinctively and I use the opportunity to lunge in. My knife bites into flesh and I hear the sound of slicing meat as I jump back from his reactive slash. Blood is running down his arm from where I got him. A small part of me is displeased that I missed where I was aiming, the nerve cluster in the shoulder. I smile as I realize I severed the muscle connecting his chest and his arm, as it hangs limply at his side.

He lunges at me, almost too fast to see. I sidestep as I grab his wrist pulling him forward, kicking my ankle out while I shift. His feet connect painfully with my shin and he sprawls out on the ground. I dive onto his back and drive my knife down with all my weight. I yank the knife out and drive it back down again and again. Finally, I stop, my chest heaving as I fall back. The shivers start as I start to look around the ruined campsite. Blood spatters both of our bedrolls and our gear is strewn everywhere. I don't remember kicking the packs. I look down and see the gore covering my own clothes and my knife. I throw the knife across the camp and run to the grass. Everything I ate the last day comes back up.

Arin? What happened? Brann's snout nudges my shoulder. I feel her look around. Where are Tag and Ax?

"Tag went to scout the camp," I mutter, reaching out my arm to lean on her. "Ax went to find you food." My knees are suddenly weak and I almost collapse.

Arin! Brann's worry presses against my mind.

"I think I need to sit down." I stumble back to the ruins of the campfire, half walking, half falling. I somehow get my legs under me before the world goes dark.