Chapter Two
Nov. 2nd, 2005 06:21 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
f4f3Another 1,600 odd words. At this stage I'm not even spell-checking, or rereading - no editing at all, just get the stuff down as fast as I can. My run rate seems to be about 1,000 words an hour, and I think I'll try and work out some outline - I've got one more chapter, getting them acquainted and on the road, and then a series of incidents along the road to the climax, which is about three chapters long and fairly well outlined. I wonder how they'll get there? (Well, apart from walking, that is.)
Chapter Two:
Of Hounds and Prey, of odds given, and aid taken, of payment and the gratitude of warriors. Something too about blades given, and blades bought, about blades returned and blades lost.
The boy set a good pace, and Erik followed him through twisting paths he’d never have spotted in this tiny town.
“How far to the stables?”
“Just around this corner – are you going to kill BloodRaven? They say that he’s a giant, that he has the strength of ten men, and that he wields two magic, soul-drinking swords. They say that he’s immortal, too, that he…”
“Then it’s just as well that I only want to talk to him, isn’t it? Assuming the Hounds have left me anything to talk to, that is.”
The boy stopped at the edge of an alley. From ahead there was an indistinct mumble of conversation, or argument.
“The stable yard is just round this corner – I thought you’d rather approach it from the back than walk in through the front door.”
“Clever boy – now prove it and stay here. I notice that there’s no one watching my horse – maybe you’d better run back to it?”
“No chance. I’m not going to miss this!”
“Ah well. Your funereal. But if anything starts, stay back. This town may be a shit-hole, but I’m betting they still won’t thank me for getting their brats killed.”
Erik inched forward, straining to hear what was going on before he let himself be seen. Peering round the corner he saw the backs of four men. He recognised the black cloaks of the warlord’s Hounds, but couldn’t tell anything more. They were crossing a fenced corral, cutting off the space and converging on one corner. But from here Erik couldn’t tell who they were stalking, if anyone. He sighed, spit in the dirt, (missing the boy by a larger margin this time), loosened the bindings on his scabbard and strolled around the corner, walking forward until he could lean on the corral fence and watch the fun. Now he could hear voices, muffled by horned helms, but still menacing.
“You’re coming with us, dog-meat, and nothing you can say will change that. Now do we take you peacefully, or in pieces?”
“You’ve obviously put a lot of time into your threat writing, but hard work is no substitute for talent. And BloodRaven is no easy morsel for your table, bonny lads. ” The voice was deep, but also mocking, unafraid, almost amused. Not the tone you would expect from someone outnumbered four to one. The four recognised this, and exchanged puzzled glances, then spread themselves apart, making a rough arc in front of their quarry.
As they moved apart, Erik got his first look at the man who called himself BloodRaven. The name fitted him – half a head taller than Erik, he towered over his four pursuers. His hair and beard were the colour of fresh blood, and his raiment as black as their own.. His cloak shimmered like a crow’s wing as he swept it over his shoulder and smoothly drew his sword. Erik’s eyes widened as he got a look at it – it was a bastard blade, what some people called a hand and a half sword, but in his hands it looked like a rapier. He held it across his body, tip resting on his shoulder, and as he smiled at the hounds a ruby the size of a baby’s fist started to glow red and pulse in time with his heart. Eric fancied he could almost hear the sword swing as it glowed.
The leader of the Hounds swallowed, and his sword wavered slightly. “We’re four blades to your one, worm-food – take one step forward and you’re a dead man.”
“But that could change very quickly, couldn’t it.” The four hounds spun round at the strangers voice behind them, and saw Erik, still leaning on the fence, but now on its other side, only a few strides from their backs.
BloodRaven did smile this time, as his eyes locked with Erik’s and one eyebrow rose in mock surprise.
The hounds’ leader spun, and found himself facing another warrior, this one slighter than BloodRaven, and older too, but still, there was something in his eyes the hound didn’t like, and his sword, while showing no signs of magic showed every sign of sharpness.
“Do not interfere, old man – the penalty for coming between the Hounds and their lawful quarry is death, and worse than death.”
“Surely I’m too stringy to be of interest to you curs? Besides, who said anything about interfering? I was just making a friendly observation.”
“Does that mean you won’t lend me your blade, stranger? I mean, not that I need the help, but it is so awkward fighting four men alone. Even if they are as unskilled as this lot obviously are, there’s always a chance of being pinked by accident as the blades fly. The odds, obviously, are against me.”
The hounds had split now, three remaining focused on BloodRaven, the leader striving to meet Erik’s eye.
“Pass on, stranger, or stay here forever – your choice.”
“Not much of a choice,” Erik mused. “Is it true that this man is BloodRaven? I mean, he has the size, and a pretty sword and all, but I’d heard that BloodRaven was a giant, and that he wielded two enchanted blades.”
“I’m BloodRaven enough for you, and for this bunch of stray pups – so will you aid me or not? The sun is going down, and I don’t want to catch a chill.”
“OK, I’ll lend you my blade, in return for a favour.”
Another of the hounds started to turn towards Erik – his attention straying from the bigger man.
“Favour? What favour?”
“Are you really in a position to ask?”
BloodRaven threw back his head and laughed. “I suppose not. OK, it’s yours, whatever I can do.”
“Fine.” Erik turned and began to walk away from the five figures. Two of the Hounds started to follow him, then stopped, confused as he strode on.
“Ho – old man: our bargain!”
Erik stopped as if just remembering something and turned back –
“You’re right, of course – I promised you my blade.” His sword came up, pointed towards the hounds’ leader – and kept going flashing through the air, over their heads, two be caught neatly by BloodRaven. The two facing Eric stared at him as if he was mad, took a step towards him and then turned as two screams split the air almost as one. Two hounds were lying in the dirt, BloodRaven’s two swords suddenly dark with gore, and he stepped towards the remaining pair with something like glee in his dark eyes.
One stood his ground, the other, less brave or more realistic, turned and faced Erik.
“Out of my way! He swung his sword high at the unarmed man, who stepped aside to let him run, and then stepped towards him as something silver and heavy flew past in a flat, fast arc and embedded itself in the running man’s back. Erik stepped forward and retrieved his sword, then looked back as BloodRaven, a single blade in his hand again, closed with the last of the Hounds.
“I suppose you think I’m going to take you alive? Torture you to find out who sent you? You must wonder what terrible means I’ll use, and I guess you’ll be worried that you will break. I’d imagine that you’ve been told that it’s death to betray your master? And horrible, horrible, slow death to defy me…”
The hound nodded, his sword wavering as BloodRaven swung his red glowing weapon idly.
“Well don’t worry about that. You see, I know who sent you, so you can die now.”
Erik almost missed the cut that killed the man, but he could have sworn that BloodRaven’s sword moved through his guard, not around it. As he fell to the ground his dying breath sounded like a sigh of relief.
BloodRaven turned towards Erik. He sliced his sword once through the air, and it shone clean again, all trace of blood gone.
“When you told me you’d lend me your blade, old man, I sort of assumed that you would be wielding it beside me.”
“Never assume, warrior, because when you assume, you make an ass out of you and me.”
“An ass? U? Me? Oh dear, oh dearie me…. I suppose you think I won’t kill you too? Honour, and gratitude and all that?”
Erik was aware that the sword had begun to pulse again, and its light merged with the setting sun, spilling like blood across the floor of the corral where four ruthless hunters lay dead, cut down like children by this man.
“No, I think nothing of the sort. I think you’re not going to kill me for two reasons. One, you can’t. And two, BloodRaven is famous not for his honour, or fairness, but for the two enchanted swords that he swings. You only have one.”
“And you think that isn’t enough to kill you?”
Everything grew very sharp in Erik’s eyes. He saw the red line on the edge of BloodRaven’s blade. He saw the red glint in his eye, and he became aware that the boy had followed him after all, and was edging around BloodRaven’s flank. Death was still very near now.
“It isn’t enough, but that’s not why it won’t kill me. I know where its brother is, you see, and if you kill me they will never be reunited. ”
BloodRaven tilted his head quizzically.
“And why should that matter?”
“Because the swords call out to each other. Because you can’t sleep at night for their calls. Because you’ve hunted the diamond blade across this dung heap world, and you can never rest until you’ve found it. Because if you don’t hold it again, and soon, the pain of their separation will kill you.”
“What do you know this? Are you some sort of speyman?”
“I’ll answer your questions, but only over a drink and a bowl of stew. I know a place where I’ll get a discount. Are you coming?”
“As long as you’re paying.”
Erik let out his breath as he turned his back on BloodRaven, and walked past the boy.
“Do you really believe you can find his sword?”
“He does, boy, and that’s what counts. Now come on and let’s get some food into your scrawny belly.”
Chapter Two:
Of Hounds and Prey, of odds given, and aid taken, of payment and the gratitude of warriors. Something too about blades given, and blades bought, about blades returned and blades lost.
The boy set a good pace, and Erik followed him through twisting paths he’d never have spotted in this tiny town.
“How far to the stables?”
“Just around this corner – are you going to kill BloodRaven? They say that he’s a giant, that he has the strength of ten men, and that he wields two magic, soul-drinking swords. They say that he’s immortal, too, that he…”
“Then it’s just as well that I only want to talk to him, isn’t it? Assuming the Hounds have left me anything to talk to, that is.”
The boy stopped at the edge of an alley. From ahead there was an indistinct mumble of conversation, or argument.
“The stable yard is just round this corner – I thought you’d rather approach it from the back than walk in through the front door.”
“Clever boy – now prove it and stay here. I notice that there’s no one watching my horse – maybe you’d better run back to it?”
“No chance. I’m not going to miss this!”
“Ah well. Your funereal. But if anything starts, stay back. This town may be a shit-hole, but I’m betting they still won’t thank me for getting their brats killed.”
Erik inched forward, straining to hear what was going on before he let himself be seen. Peering round the corner he saw the backs of four men. He recognised the black cloaks of the warlord’s Hounds, but couldn’t tell anything more. They were crossing a fenced corral, cutting off the space and converging on one corner. But from here Erik couldn’t tell who they were stalking, if anyone. He sighed, spit in the dirt, (missing the boy by a larger margin this time), loosened the bindings on his scabbard and strolled around the corner, walking forward until he could lean on the corral fence and watch the fun. Now he could hear voices, muffled by horned helms, but still menacing.
“You’re coming with us, dog-meat, and nothing you can say will change that. Now do we take you peacefully, or in pieces?”
“You’ve obviously put a lot of time into your threat writing, but hard work is no substitute for talent. And BloodRaven is no easy morsel for your table, bonny lads. ” The voice was deep, but also mocking, unafraid, almost amused. Not the tone you would expect from someone outnumbered four to one. The four recognised this, and exchanged puzzled glances, then spread themselves apart, making a rough arc in front of their quarry.
As they moved apart, Erik got his first look at the man who called himself BloodRaven. The name fitted him – half a head taller than Erik, he towered over his four pursuers. His hair and beard were the colour of fresh blood, and his raiment as black as their own.. His cloak shimmered like a crow’s wing as he swept it over his shoulder and smoothly drew his sword. Erik’s eyes widened as he got a look at it – it was a bastard blade, what some people called a hand and a half sword, but in his hands it looked like a rapier. He held it across his body, tip resting on his shoulder, and as he smiled at the hounds a ruby the size of a baby’s fist started to glow red and pulse in time with his heart. Eric fancied he could almost hear the sword swing as it glowed.
The leader of the Hounds swallowed, and his sword wavered slightly. “We’re four blades to your one, worm-food – take one step forward and you’re a dead man.”
“But that could change very quickly, couldn’t it.” The four hounds spun round at the strangers voice behind them, and saw Erik, still leaning on the fence, but now on its other side, only a few strides from their backs.
BloodRaven did smile this time, as his eyes locked with Erik’s and one eyebrow rose in mock surprise.
The hounds’ leader spun, and found himself facing another warrior, this one slighter than BloodRaven, and older too, but still, there was something in his eyes the hound didn’t like, and his sword, while showing no signs of magic showed every sign of sharpness.
“Do not interfere, old man – the penalty for coming between the Hounds and their lawful quarry is death, and worse than death.”
“Surely I’m too stringy to be of interest to you curs? Besides, who said anything about interfering? I was just making a friendly observation.”
“Does that mean you won’t lend me your blade, stranger? I mean, not that I need the help, but it is so awkward fighting four men alone. Even if they are as unskilled as this lot obviously are, there’s always a chance of being pinked by accident as the blades fly. The odds, obviously, are against me.”
The hounds had split now, three remaining focused on BloodRaven, the leader striving to meet Erik’s eye.
“Pass on, stranger, or stay here forever – your choice.”
“Not much of a choice,” Erik mused. “Is it true that this man is BloodRaven? I mean, he has the size, and a pretty sword and all, but I’d heard that BloodRaven was a giant, and that he wielded two enchanted blades.”
“I’m BloodRaven enough for you, and for this bunch of stray pups – so will you aid me or not? The sun is going down, and I don’t want to catch a chill.”
“OK, I’ll lend you my blade, in return for a favour.”
Another of the hounds started to turn towards Erik – his attention straying from the bigger man.
“Favour? What favour?”
“Are you really in a position to ask?”
BloodRaven threw back his head and laughed. “I suppose not. OK, it’s yours, whatever I can do.”
“Fine.” Erik turned and began to walk away from the five figures. Two of the Hounds started to follow him, then stopped, confused as he strode on.
“Ho – old man: our bargain!”
Erik stopped as if just remembering something and turned back –
“You’re right, of course – I promised you my blade.” His sword came up, pointed towards the hounds’ leader – and kept going flashing through the air, over their heads, two be caught neatly by BloodRaven. The two facing Eric stared at him as if he was mad, took a step towards him and then turned as two screams split the air almost as one. Two hounds were lying in the dirt, BloodRaven’s two swords suddenly dark with gore, and he stepped towards the remaining pair with something like glee in his dark eyes.
One stood his ground, the other, less brave or more realistic, turned and faced Erik.
“Out of my way! He swung his sword high at the unarmed man, who stepped aside to let him run, and then stepped towards him as something silver and heavy flew past in a flat, fast arc and embedded itself in the running man’s back. Erik stepped forward and retrieved his sword, then looked back as BloodRaven, a single blade in his hand again, closed with the last of the Hounds.
“I suppose you think I’m going to take you alive? Torture you to find out who sent you? You must wonder what terrible means I’ll use, and I guess you’ll be worried that you will break. I’d imagine that you’ve been told that it’s death to betray your master? And horrible, horrible, slow death to defy me…”
The hound nodded, his sword wavering as BloodRaven swung his red glowing weapon idly.
“Well don’t worry about that. You see, I know who sent you, so you can die now.”
Erik almost missed the cut that killed the man, but he could have sworn that BloodRaven’s sword moved through his guard, not around it. As he fell to the ground his dying breath sounded like a sigh of relief.
BloodRaven turned towards Erik. He sliced his sword once through the air, and it shone clean again, all trace of blood gone.
“When you told me you’d lend me your blade, old man, I sort of assumed that you would be wielding it beside me.”
“Never assume, warrior, because when you assume, you make an ass out of you and me.”
“An ass? U? Me? Oh dear, oh dearie me…. I suppose you think I won’t kill you too? Honour, and gratitude and all that?”
Erik was aware that the sword had begun to pulse again, and its light merged with the setting sun, spilling like blood across the floor of the corral where four ruthless hunters lay dead, cut down like children by this man.
“No, I think nothing of the sort. I think you’re not going to kill me for two reasons. One, you can’t. And two, BloodRaven is famous not for his honour, or fairness, but for the two enchanted swords that he swings. You only have one.”
“And you think that isn’t enough to kill you?”
Everything grew very sharp in Erik’s eyes. He saw the red line on the edge of BloodRaven’s blade. He saw the red glint in his eye, and he became aware that the boy had followed him after all, and was edging around BloodRaven’s flank. Death was still very near now.
“It isn’t enough, but that’s not why it won’t kill me. I know where its brother is, you see, and if you kill me they will never be reunited. ”
BloodRaven tilted his head quizzically.
“And why should that matter?”
“Because the swords call out to each other. Because you can’t sleep at night for their calls. Because you’ve hunted the diamond blade across this dung heap world, and you can never rest until you’ve found it. Because if you don’t hold it again, and soon, the pain of their separation will kill you.”
“What do you know this? Are you some sort of speyman?”
“I’ll answer your questions, but only over a drink and a bowl of stew. I know a place where I’ll get a discount. Are you coming?”
“As long as you’re paying.”
Erik let out his breath as he turned his back on BloodRaven, and walked past the boy.
“Do you really believe you can find his sword?”
“He does, boy, and that’s what counts. Now come on and let’s get some food into your scrawny belly.”
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no subject
Date: 2005-11-02 06:58 pm (UTC)Looking forward to Chapter 3 - I'll even forgive you the ass/u/me line, even though it usually leaves me wanting to smite the user myself with a very sharp blade.
PS I think you want funeral (the noun), not funereal (the adjective). ;)
no subject
Date: 2005-11-03 08:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-03 02:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-03 08:46 am (UTC)I'll try to get half at lunchtime, then finish it after yoga.
no subject
Date: 2005-11-03 07:16 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-03 07:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-11-04 04:47 am (UTC)I really like that... very poetic...:)